


The Parent Trap

by markwatneyandensemble



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25896733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markwatneyandensemble/pseuds/markwatneyandensemble
Summary: AU based on the 1998 film The Parent Trap, wherein Mulder and Scully get separated after the birth of their twin sons, for the safety of each of them. Eight years later, Mulder has landed in England, seeking treatment for Sam, his son, while Scully remains in the DC area with son, William. Unsure the threat has fully passed, but wanting to give their children a normal childhood, they unknowingly send their sons to the same summer camp, where they meet and attempt to solve the eight year old mystery of how they got separated, why they never knew about each other, and how to get their parents back together.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 32
Kudos: 180





	1. Prologue

_2001_

It was an early bleary morning, a small-town hospital in Nevada. They’d been running for too long, and suddenly, they had to stop. 

He let her squeeze his hand, ignoring the shooting pain that came with her forcing his pawn shop wedding ring into his finger. It was nothing compared to what she went through. 

It took seven hours, but all three pulled through. Mama Scully. Baby Scully 1, and Baby Scully 2. 

“This is unreal,” he whispered to his groggy wife, somehow allowed to hold one in each arm without certification or a license. They just handed them to him and left. Guess that’s allowed when both little boys got stuck with his nose. “Scully, they’re perfect.” 

Her eyes drooped shut in response, and somehow, he mustered enough undying love for all three before him. 

Leaning forward, ever so carefully, he kissed her nose just as she fell asleep, before leaning back and bouncing each baby in his arms. Like a pro. 

Sometime, after Thing 1 fell asleep, and Thing 2 gave him a crash course in diapers, the nurse came in with the birth certificates, and a pen. 

“Did you decide on names?” she asked. 

“We had a few contenders…” he said, glancing at Scully’s sleeping form. 

“Well, you’ll need to fill them out before we can discharge you.” She had a look in her eye like she knew the situation these children were born into. He guessed a lot of people came through here, preferring not to be found. 

“Okay, thanks,” he said, and watched her leave with the door shutting behind her. Light was starting to trace the sky outside, and he knew they’d have to leave soon, just as long as Scully was healthy enough to travel. 

He took the papers over to the bassinets, looking at the two perfect, but identical babies in front of him. 

He turned to the first, bigger, ten minutes older, and with a black O on his left foot. “I already know who you are,” he said, and scrawled his name on the form. 

William Tiberius Scully. 

“You’re named after your mom’s dad,” he said. “And also a very famous space ship captain. I’ll show you him one day.” 

He turned to the second. Smaller, wigglier, with a little more Scully deep in his eyes. He had a little X on his foot. 

“We couldn’t name you yet,” he said, touching his impossibly little toes. “Your mom wanted to call you Sam, after my sister, but I wasn't sure.” 

Scully murmured something in her sleep, and he turned around with love in his eyes. 

“She’s really pretty, your mom,” he told the babies. “You haven’t formally met her, but you’ll love her when you do.” 

He remembered that night. Just nine months ago, but it felt like a lifetime. The leather couch, the fish tank bubbling. The Shiner Bock on the coffee table as he threw her undergarments to the far corners of his apartment where she would never find them again. Caddy Shack played in the background, and they didn’t notice when it finished. 

“Mulder,” she moaned, eyes just barely open. 

“Hey,” he said, sitting by her side. 

“How long have we been here?” she asked. 

“Going on twelve hours.” He kissed her forehead, feeling it warm and sticky beneath his lips. 

“We need to leave.” 

He shook his head. “No, you have to get a little stronger before we do.” 

Her head lulled to one side. “We’ve been here too long, they’ll find us.” 

“Scully,” he said. “You just gave birth to twins, we can’t leave yet.” 

“Do you know which is the one?” 

He glanced at the bassinets. The little X and the little O were all he could see through the clear plastic. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“We have to get out of here,” she said, trying to summon the strength to get up, but he gently held her back down. 

“No, we’ll wait a little longer. I don’t want to go to Plan B either, but if we’re going to leave, I need to see you get stronger.” 

She looked at him with watery eyes. “I just don’t want to be separated. After all we’ve done to stay together.” 

He kissed her, long and deep. “We won’t. Just go back to sleep, and get rested. You’re taking the first driving shift,” he joked, and tucked her in tightly. 

The hours ticked by, and she kept sleeping. 

The doctor found him with the news, and gut wrenched, he knew Plan B, the one he’d promised he wouldn’t enact, was their only option. 

He called Maggie Scully, Monica, and Bill Scully Jr, in that order. Maggie and Monica would come out as fast as they could, but Bill was closer and could get here fast. 

He clipped a thick envelope to the back of Scully’s gown, explaining everything. Plan B. That he loved her. That the baby was beautiful, and he loved them both so much. That he’d see her in a little while. It wouldn’t be long. 

He picked William up one more time, and held him close, trying to not shed tears on his little bald head. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s not you, it’s not your fault. Your mom and I love each other and you so much, and we just want to protect you and your brother. But I’ll see you soon. I promise.” 

And he set him down, kissing his forehead, and his little-big belly. 

He kissed Scully one more time. Forehead, cheeks, nose, mouth. 

And then he picked up the second baby, swaddled him like an expert, and carried him and his identification forms out of the hospital, and into the dark, and stormy morning. 

\- - -

_Eight years later._

Sammy followed his dad around the restaurant like a hawk. 

“Well, why not?” 

“Because I said so. Can you please focus and help me roll silverware?” 

Sam glared at Mulder, but took the other stack of napkins. 

“It’s just that the school pays for it and everything. And I thought since I came out clear in my last round of tests at the doctor’s, it would be okay.” 

Mulder dropped his roll, and leaned heavy on the counter, taking a deep breath in, and out. 

“And it’s safe and everything. I’m sure they do background checks on the counselors, and Toby’s gonna be there as well. And his parents can take us there and back so you don’t have to take off of work and-“ 

“Fine.” 

Sam dropped his roll, out of sheer surprise. “Really?!” 

Mulder looked back at him. “Yeah. But just after I have a long, thorough discussion with Toby’s parents about how to keep you safe on an airplane, and what dangers you pose, and do a little more research on who runs this camp, and if all of that works out, then yes. You can go.” 

He jumped off his step stool and ran around the counter to hug his dad. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chanted over and over. 

“But you better be safe, and not stupid. And call me every other day or I’ll show up myself and you’ll be washing dishes with Tommy for the rest of the summer.” 

“I love you,” he squealed, and tried to jump into his arms like he did when he was little. 

“Whoa,” Mulder said, stumbling back. “I think you’re getting a little too big for that.” 

Sam dropped to the floor. “Thank you!” 

He was so excited, he was dancing in place, and it made his dad laugh. 

“Thank me by setting these on the tables.” 

“Got it!” he squealed. He grabbed the basket of silverware rolls, and took off running, nearly slide-tackling Roberta as she walked in. 

“I see he convinced you about the camp,” she said, plopping down on a barstool. 

Mulder rolled his eyes. “It’s conditional. I’ll do my research.” 

“Well, I think it’ll be good for both of you. And maybe with your free time this summer, you could get out and meet someone.” 

He felt a lump in his throat, and glanced down at his ring. “No.” 

Her eyes were on the ring too. “You know, you never told me what happened…” 

“And I’m not going to. Now, I have to help Charlie in the kitchen. Let me know when you and Sam are heading out, I’ll want to kiss him good night.” 

“I’m not going to let this go, Fox,” she called after him. “You can run, but you can’t hide forever.” 

He knew that as well as anyone. But that didn’t stop him from trying.


	2. Billings Boys

Will woke up to the mid-afternoon sun shining right in his eye. Someone was shaking his shoulder, and he blearily sat up from the pile of sleeping bags and pillows that had overtaken the backseat of his mother's car. 

“Will? Anyone in there?” 

He rubbed his eye, squinting, and turned to find his mother squatted down next to his open car door. 

“Welcome back,” she said, licking her palm to try to pat down his messy hair. 

“Mom!” 

“Will, it’s sticking up every which way,” she said, exasperated, but finally pulled back. “Fine. I got it.” 

“I’m wearing a hat anyway,” he said, trying to find it in the pile. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” 

He huffed, and got out, realizing only then that he didn’t know where they were. 

“What is this?” he asked, stepping forward to see they were on a wide open bluff, overlooking the ocean. 

“It’s a park,” Scully said, opening the front seat to grab a takeout bag. “Since you could sleep through anything, I figured I wouldn’t wake you up until I had to.” 

She pointed to the picnic tables out on the grass. “What do you think? This look okay?” 

He hummed, not really caring about anything but the greasy brown paper bag he was digging through. 

“How far away are we?” he asked. 

“Twenty, thirty minutes?” She looked back at him and smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to be late.” 

“I wasn’t worried,” he said, glancing up to see his mother raising an eyebrow. “Fine. I just don’t want to be late.” 

She patted the table. “Sit down and eat your food before you trip and choke.” 

He sighed. 

“Oh! That reminds me, do you want me to show you the Heimlich maneuver again?” 

“Only if you want to go to this camp, and have me be the doctor.” 

She rolled her eyes, and wiped some ketchup off his nose. 

“Are you nervous?” she asked, and he shrugged. 

“Maybe. Definitely if you keep telling me horror stories about little boys who sleep walk into lakes.” 

“All I said was wear a life vest when you go boating…” she sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

He raised an eyebrow this time. 

“I was a pathologist, Will. I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff happen by accident.” She took a breath. “Alright, I’m sorry. You’re smart. You’ll be safe. I’m good.” 

He smiled, a new batch of ketchup on his cheek. “No more scary stories?” 

She crossed her heart. “No more scary stories. So, what’re you nervous about?” 

He shrugged. “I guess just making friends. I don’t know anyone, and what if they think I’m weird?” 

“They’re not going to think you’re weird.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Mom. Even you think I’m weird.” 

“I don’t think you’re weird,” she said, getting some ketchup off his cheek. 

“You thought Dad was weird.” 

“Your dad was weird.” 

“And you said I’m like him.” 

She smiled. “But in a good way. Not in a weird way.” 

She just handed him the stack of napkins, knowing ketchup was futile. 

“Besides, you brought enough books to last until college. I think you’ll be fine either way.” 

“But what if they make fun of me?” 

She smiled. “You brought your witchcraft and the occult book?” 

He nodded, seeing where she was going with that. 

“Just… make a shutter fly open with wind, pretend to curse them with the latin translation of baseball. Make fun of them, too.” 

He squinted, suspiciously. “That wouldn’t work.” 

She smiled. “It worked for your dad.” 

* * *

It was a six am flight, which meant they had to leave for the airport around 3. The Dwyers were meeting them there, and Roberta drove them in her cranky old station wagon. Mulder sat in the backseat for the first time in twenty years, letting Sam slump sleepily on his shoulder on the drive over. 

“You excited?” he asked. 

He nodded, holding Heywood closer. 

“You scared?” 

He nodded again. 

Mulder leaned down and kissed Sam on the top of his head. “You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t send you if you weren’t.” 

“It’s so far away.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind that when you were begging me a few months ago.” 

He looked up at him, his big, blue, Scully eyes making him shut down the sarcasm and be serious for once. 

“Alright, yes, it is far,” he said, quietly. “But the doctors all think you’ll be fine. And I think you’ll be fine. And if anything happens, I’ll come and get you on the first plane out, and plus, I still have lots of friends in the US that can help too.” 

“Like Mom?” 

He’d meant the Gunmen, and at that mention, Mulder felt something crack inside him. Perhaps unrelatedly, Roberta swerved the car a second. 

“Why didn’t you call her? Why didn’t you tell her?” he asked, in a soft, sweet voice. 

He took a minute to respond. “I wanted to. But she has responsibilities of her own, and remember how I told you she worked with me at the FBI? Well, there are some dangerous people that made me leave that might still know about her, and I don’t want her to be in any more danger, or for you to be in any more danger.” 

Sam was quiet for a second, and when Mulder looked down, he saw that he was asleep. 

“You really should have called her, Mulder.” 

He looked up to see Roberta glaring at him in the rearview mirror. 

“She deserved to know that she had an opportunity to meet her son.” 

He looked down at Sam’s sleeping head. 

“I know.” 

“If you had the guts to go pick him up yourself, you could meet your son as well.” 

She said it even quieter, so Sam couldn’t hear even if he was awake, but he’d known that fact for months. Since he’d said yes to sending him to that camp. 

He could fly to Bangor, Maine with him, drive all night, and walk him and his son through Scully’s door by breakfast. Start the life he’d been dreaming about for eight years. 

But in the light of a passing car, he could see the little marks on his son’s wrist from the treatments and tests. They’d put an electrode on him two weeks ago, and the red circle it left still hadn’t faded. And he knew he couldn’t endanger him. He couldn’t endanger Scully, or William. 

“I can’t. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Well, you better figure out how to make it safe soon. I will set you up with someone if that’s what it takes to get you back to her.” 

He rolled his eyes, but knew deep down she was right. With Sam getting healthier, it was becoming more and more a possibility. But not yet. 

Sam snuggled Heywood closer, and he let the drive lull him as well. His eyes slowly drifted shut, and he heard Roberta turn the crackling radio to an old Elvis song, and he drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Scully'd been just as nervous as Will was. 

They had stopped in Connecticut the night before, so Will could go on a haunted ghost tour that he’d discovered when he researched the camp. 

“It’s only a two hour detour, and besides, do you really want to drive ten whole hours in one day?” 

If she hadn’t known for certain that Mulder was somewhere in England and the Gunmen were keeping an eye on him, she could have sworn he was somehow reincarnated into their son. 

It wasn’t the ghost tour that kept her up that night, but the impending thought of having to spend three weeks away from him. 

It was painful enough eight years for… for her other one. But she knew she couldn’t hold Will back from having a childhood, so she’d said yes. The entire day of driving, her hands were shaking on the wheel. She almost prayed that rural Maine would get its first traffic jam, so she could have him around a little longer. 

They ate on Eagles’ Bluff, and she helped him practice his baseball throwing in the grass, buying time before they had to get into their french-fry smelling car for even another second. 

But it was all building to the inevitable. 

Them, in the Blue Jay Cabin at Camp Billings for Boys, about to say goodbye. 

“Which bunk do you want?” she asked, watching Will look around the room with wide eyes. “I’m gonna guess-“ 

“Top bunk,” he said, racing to the last one left, and throwing his stuff on top. 

“I figured,” she laughed. “You wanna take this?” 

He grabbed his backpack from her, and threw it on top of the pile. He turned to her again, a look of finality in his eyes, like he was ready to say goodbye, but thankfully, another family interrupted their farewell. 

“Oh, Toby, this is it.” 

She and Will turned to see a mom and dad bringing their son in. 

“Hi,” Scully said, immediately stepping closer to Will. Eight years, and she still was fearful of strangers. 

“Oh, hi,” the woman said, stepping forward to shake her hand. “I’m Sally Dwyer, this is my husband Don, and our son Toby.” 

Scully smiled, restrained. “Hi. My name is Dana, and this is my son, Will.” 

“Well, it’s good to meet you both. Is Will nervous? I think Don and I are more nervous than Toby, I can’t imagine leaving him yet.” Sally gave a loud laugh, and something in Scully twinged. She was almost grateful for the timing of her cellphone ringing. 

“I’m so sorry, I have to take this,” she said, turning to Will. “I’ll be right outside, okay?” 

He nodded, and watched her go. The door shut behind her, and between deep breaths and trying to find a decent signal, she missed overhearing the Dwyers fawn over the similarities between Will and a friend of Toby’s. 

She wandered around for a moment, before Monica’s staticky voice came through. 

“Dan-a?” she asked. “I’m just calling to… you know I got in.” 

“What?” 

“I’m… -a's Vineyard.” 

Scully looked at her phone, but the blinking single bar was gone. She’d call her back from the hotel. 

She sighed, and walked back up the stairs, into the cabin, nearly missing Sally and Don. 

“We’re gonna grab a friend of Toby’s and to go get some ice cream,” she said. “You’re welcome to come along, but Will said he didn’t like ice cream.” 

She raised an eyebrow, and walked inside. “So, you don’t like ice cream now?” 

Will looked at her with a worried expression. “I’m just not hungry.” 

She stepped by his bunk and helped him down to the ground. 

“Alright, what is it?” 

He shrugged, looked at the ground for a long time, before stepping into her arms for a tight hug. 

“Hey,” she said, softly. “It’s alright.” 

“I know.” 

They hugged in silence for another minute. 

“Was that Aunt Monica?” 

“Sort of. Couldn’t quite get a signal.” 

He propped his chin up on her arm. “Are you going to go tonight?” 

“No, I’m gonna stay at a hotel nearby and drive down tomorrow morning.” 

He was quiet, and buried his head back in her stomach. 

“I’m just going to be a couple hours away. It’s not so far.” 

“I know.” 

She kissed his head. “It’s just a few weeks. And you’ll have a ton of fun. ” 

He nodded, and pulled back. “You’re sure?” 

She smiled. “Positive.” 

He bit his lip, and kicked the floor, absently. “Mom?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can you check my bunk for bugs?” 

She bit back a smile, trying to be serious. “Of course.” 

* * *

It had been a long day for Sam. 

Dad had walked him as far as he could in the airport, even getting an angry look from one of the guards. He’d hugged him as tightly as possible, and his tears had rolled right off Dad’s jacket. Dad even addressed Heywood, telling the little stuffed Pomeranian to keep him safe. 

But the time came, and the Dwyers took him through the security line. There was a glass wall between the gate and the entrance and he waved at Dad and Roberta until he couldn’t see them anymore. 

And then it was a blur. Toby and Mr. Dwyer both snored away on the plane, and Mrs. Dwyer read from a book with a blonde lady on the cover and her shirt shrunk in the wash. 

He started reading one of the books Dad gave him for his birthday, the one with all the serial numbers and airport codes on it, but it still kinda smelled like his office, and he got sad and stared out the window the rest of the time. 

They arrived at camp, and he was tired, and grumpy as ever. He barely slept since he saw Dad, and he just wanted to curl up in a little ball with Heywood and close his eyes. 

The counselor that greeted them had a big red badge that said “Marty”, and an even bigger smile. 

“Dwyer, Toby,” he hummed, checking their list. “Alright, you’re in the Blue Jay cabin with our counselor Luca. And your name?” 

“Scully, Sam. Sam Scully. It might be under Samuel…” he said. 

“Scully, Sam, check. You’re in the Otter cabin… that’s funny. We have another Scully in Blue Jay with Toby.” He looked up from his clipboard with a smile. “You got a brother by any chance?” 

Sam shook his head. “Weird.” 

“I’ll say. Both cabins are down that path to the left, and welcome to Camp Billings.” 

He smiled, but gave a little wave to signal they should move on. 

They walked down the trail, Mr. Dwyer holding the map like they were three weeks deep in the wilderness. “It looks like your cabin is up first, Sam. If you want to go on in and get set up, we can come by after we drop off Toby’s things.” 

Sam nodded, and craned his head to see the cabin with the little Otter sign on it. 

“This is it?” he asked, voice trailing off when he noticed a woman and her son going into the Blue Jay cabin. The boy looked just like him, and the woman… He suddenly tripped over a root and fell hard on the ground. 

“Sam!” Mrs. Dwyer said, rushing over to pick him up. “Are you alright?” 

He nodded, trying to ignore the painful embarrassment a fall like that would have caused. 

“Let’s check you out, make sure you’re not hurt,” she said. “I got strict orders from your dad to keep you in one piece.” 

She made him turn around, and dusted his knees off with a pack of travel Kleenex. 

“Alright, still got the two legs, two arms, any blood?” He shook his head. “Alright, I think you’re good. You feel good? Good.” 

“Maybe I could go with you and help unpack Toby’s things?” he asked, curious about that other boy. 

“That’s sweet, hon, but you have your own to worry about, we’ll be right back.” 

With a little pat on the back, she sent him towards the Otter Cabin’s door, and he turned back just once to see them ushering Toby into the other cabin. 

He walked into the cabin, reluctantly, still keeping an eye on the window of the other, just in case he got a glimpse of the other family. Thankfully, there was a bottom bunk left, and he quickly tossed his bags onto it. Carefully, he extracted Heywood from his backpack, and climbed over to the window. 

The other cabin looked dark, and he couldn’t see into it, but a minute later, the woman walked out, trying to talk on the phone. 

She stopped, looking in his direction so he could see her face clearly. And his heart nearly stopped. 

He quickly stumbled over other kids’ bags, back to his bunk, and ripped open his backpack again. Inside, he grabbed the book he’d been reading, bigger than his own head, and flipped through it until he found it. The picture. 

He walked back to the window, seeing the woman had already gone inside. But he knew, as sure as ever, that she was the same one as in the photograph. 

* * *

As soon as he got used to the place, Will felt like he fit in. His bunkmates were just rowdier versions of his friends at school, and they stayed up till midnight jumping off the high bunks and eating the taffy Mom got for him. 

Toby was the quietest by all means, except for him, and the next morning over breakfast, they bonded over their mutual love of pancakes and how weird each other’s accents sounded. Every so often, he’d catch Toby staring at him strangely, and ask him point blank, “what?” 

It was the same response every time. “You just look so much like my friend Sam. But you’re so different.” 

He didn’t think much of it. Lots of people said he looked like their son, or cousin, or grand-nephew twice removed. Mom had even called him Boomer a couple times by accident, but he suspected it was a subtle hint for him to get a haircut so he didn’t resemble their shaggy golden retriever. 

Besides, Sam must’ve had plenty of friends if he didn’t hang out with Toby so much. Who cares? 

The first few days, aside from the constant references to this “Sam”, went fairly smoothly. Two or three times a day, someone would knock him on the back of the head, or catapult grapes across the dining room to hit who they thought was “Sam”, but it was fine. It was completely fine. That’s what he told himself. 

They had s’mores. They got iced tea at each meal. He went swimming one day, then boating, and then sailing. 

He remembered when he was little, and Mom still lived with him on Martha’s Vineyard. She took him sailing one day for his birthday. He was scared, but she knew what she was doing. “I was raised in the Navy, you know.” 

It didn’t stop him from clutching the mast terrified for the first thirty minutes. 

They’d stopped for lunch a ways out. So far away the island looked like a fuzzy dark line separating the sky and the water. But while he looked back, she looked forward. 

“What’s that direction?” he’d asked, chewing on his salt-water soaked peanut butter sandwich. 

“That direction is about three thousand miles of ocean and then it’s England.” 

“England?” 

She smiled, but it was sad. He didn’t think you could get sad from just a place. 

“Yep. Red phone booths and funny shaped cars and everything.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “If we sailed all afternoon, could we visit?” 

“It’s too far.” She kissed his head, not letting him see the sad look in her eye. “But I wish.” 

And they turned around and sailed back. 

He wouldn’t realize until later that that sad look was because his dad lived there. Mom had never really told him why he left, or why they couldn’t go with him. Just that it was too dangerous, but he loved him very much. But by now he knew at least that much. That sad look Mom got in her eye was because of Dad. 

He wished he could have met him. He knew a little about the man, but not much. He liked the Yankees, and Mom and Dad had their first date at a batting cage. He guessed that was why Mom made him do tee-ball until he loved the sport. He guessed Dad was also good at it too, because he was. 

A few days later, there was a pickup baseball game after dinner and before dessert. Otter Cabin against the Blue Jay Cabin. He got to be pitcher, and he excitedly took the mound while a boy wandered up to the plate, face shadowed by a helmet that was far too big. 

Will grinned, and turned around to smile at Toby, both watching the other boy try to straighten his helmet with one hand, while keeping the bat raised with the other. 

He pitched, nice and easy over the plate, feeling like he should pity the kid, but he swung blindly, and on instinct alone, smacked the ball up into the sky. 

Everyone froze, except the batter, who started skipping in the smuggest way possible around the bases. Will craned his neck to see the ball arc through the air, hit an older boy square in the back, and made him fall back into the ice cream bucket. 

They all heard angry yells echo across the field, and the batter turned from his joyous home run to see a herd ice-cream splattered kids racing towards them. Suddenly, it didn’t feel worth it to gloat. The batter turned and started sprinting towards home base, his helmet bouncing off, and the rest of the players scattered. Will started running, nearly tripping over the strewn equipment, and followed the batter into the woods. 

He found a tree to cower under, but it wasn’t enough. One of the gangly kids grabbed him by the shirt collar, and dumped the remaining ice cream all over his head. 

“What the hell?” he screamed, kicking. “Why me?” 

“You’re the one who hit that ball,” one of them said to him. 

“No, I didn’t!” he protested. 

“We saw you. Don’t try that again.” 

They shoved the empty ice cream container over his head, and tossed him onto the ground, before storming off, leaving him dusty and covered in sticky strawberry ice cream. “Stupid little kid.” 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” 

He heard a voice come out from behind a tree, but he didn’t have the heart to look and see who it was. 

“I didn’t know they’d do that, I’m so sorry.” 

Whoever the kid was, he pulled the container off of his head, like an octopus suction cup letting go. 

Dirt from the bases stuck to his skin. He tried not to cry with humiliation, but when he saw who had taken the container off, rage filled his veins. 

“Whoa,” Sam said, staring eyes wide at his face. 

“You.” He balled his fists, and rolled up off the ground. “You’re the reason they did this to me.” 

Sam scrambled backwards. “I didn’t know they’d do that to you!” 

“You could have stopped them!” 

“There were like six of them and they’re ten feet tall, what could I have done?” 

That was the last straw. He tackled Sam, and they fell over the dusty home base. He didn’t quite know what he was doing. He’d never done this before, but he missed his mom, and he was covered in sticky ice cream, and there were flies and bees everywhere, and he hated bugs, and he just wanted this kid to be sorry, to be really sorry. And to be covered in ice cream too. He wiped globs of the melting treat all over him, getting him as gross and dirty as he was, before Sam started fighting back. It was a swift punch to his nose, and he stumbled back, and he tried to take out his knees. Somehow they ended up covered in dust and grass and strawberry ice cream being pulled apart by two counselors, and dragged by their ears up to the lodge. 

* * *

Sam didn’t know what this other boy’s problem was. If anyone should’ve been mad, it was _him_. This kid was the one Toby picked over him. This kid had a million friends in his cabin, while he was forgotten even by the counselors. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that he had to prove he was a decent baseball player, and it definitely wasn’t his fault he accidentally hit one of the older kids, while wearing the last helmet left that nobody wanted. 

But even still. Sitting in the camp leader’s office, swim towels over the chairs so they didn’t mess them up, this other kid- Will?- still had the audacity to kick him under the desk and glare at him. 

“Boys, you both know that fights are strictly against the rules,” Mr. Glasgott said. “You cannot act in that way. Even if you’re angry." 

Will protested. “But it was all his fault that the other boys did that. He was the one who hit the baseball at them.” 

“And those boys are going to be punished, but you were the one who started the fight-“ 

“But it was his fault it even happened to me. He was the one who did it, and I’m the one who got pushed around?” 

“Will,” Mr. Glasgott said, in a sympathetic tone. “You and Sam do look incredibly similar. Surely, you can understand the mistake.” 

“We don’t even look that much alike-“ he denied. 

“Yeah, we do.” Sam glared at him. 

“No,” Will bit back. “I don’t know why we keep getting mistaken, but we don’t.” 

“How so?” 

“For example? I have talent and you don’t. I have friends and you don’t. I have a reasonably sized nose and you don’t.” 

“I have manners and you don’t,” he screamed back. 

“Boys!” Mr. Glasgott pounded the table with his fist. “We’re not going to call your parents immediately. We know it can be a tough time starting out and we understand you both came from far away. This is your first strike, but if you can’t learn to get along, we will be going to further measures. Got that?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Alright. Well, you both are going to be moved to the Whale Cabin. It’s further from your friends and you won’t have so many distractions as you learn to get along.” 

Will huffed and got up to follow his counsellor back to his cabin, but Sam sat still. 

“Aren’t you coming?” Will snarled. 

“No, go.” 

Will looked like he was going to say something back, but his counselor dragged him away. 

Sam looked at Mr. Glasgott, trying not to get upset. 

“Can I call my dad?” he asked, and for a moment, Glasgott's angry look was replaced by a sympathetic one. 

“Yeah. Use the phone in the basement.” 

He immediately got up and rushed downstairs, feeling tears make tracks on his dusty face. 

It took two rings, but Dad picked up. 

“Sam?” he gasped. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, hoping he couldn’t hear how watery his voice sounded. 

“Are you sure?” Dad’s voice was gentler this time. 

“Yeah,” he said, kicking the floor. He wanted to tell him. Badly. There was this mean boy who hit him at camp and he wants to go home. Three seconds, and Dad would be on the first flight to get him. But something told him not to say it. 

“Well, what is it?” he asked. 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and rested his head against the cold brick wall. “Can you tell me the story about Mom’s Heywood?” 

He could hear Dad smiling so happily and sadly at the same time. “You’ve heard that story more times than I could count.” 

“Please?” he begged. “Just one more?” 

He heard Dad roll over and sigh. “Well, Mom’s Heywood wasn’t called Heywood. He was called Queequeg, and he was the devil.” 

He laughed, more tears spilling over his cheeks. 

“And your mom got him because Queequeg ate his old owner.” 

“No, he didn’t.” 

“He did. You weren’t born yet, so how could you know?” 

“Because dogs don’t eat people.” His counselor, watching him like a hawk, gave him a funny look at that. 

“Well, this was no dog. It was a monster. It tore up my shoes whenever I went to see her. It drooled in my food whenever Mom let it on the couch with us.” 

He giggled, for a moment forgetting Will and the ice cream. 

“And then, this one case, Mom had to bring him with us, and he got eaten by a lake monster, and Mom was sad, and so I was a little sad for her, but happy he was gone.” 

“Dad!” 

“I’m not going to pretend anymore. The dog was a menace.” 

“And then what happened?” 

“And then, when you were two years old, we were shopping for Tommy’s daughter’s birthday, and you found Heywood in the toy store, and he looked exactly like Queequeg, but you wouldn’t put him down and when I tried to take him from you, you cried and kicked me, so I let you keep him.” 

He smiled. “But you like Heywood?” 

“I like Heywood a lot. Especially since he can’t drool or tear up my shoes.” 

“Thanks, Dad.” 

“Is that all you called for?” 

He wiped his cheek. “Yeah. Just that. Thanks.” 

* * *

The Whale Cabin was older and broken down, a remnant from before the camp updated and became woodland themed. Its floors had nail heads and corners sticking up, the bunks were creakier. There was a corner for craft supplies and board games that were half-lost. The counselor Luca said that it was because they were banned from normal activities for a few days, and this would stave off boredom, but Will didn’t care. He’d read until he could convince Sam to forgive him in front of the grown-ups, and then he’d be back in his cabin like normal. 

He took the top bunk, glad that Sam wasn’t there to snag it before him, and he flopped down and stared at the ceiling. 

“Lights out is in a few hours,” Luca said. “We were going to do some s’mores tonight, but you can’t come. I’ll try to bring you guys a couple anyway, though.” 

Will nodded, and let the silence overtake him. 

Mom was going to be furious if she ever found out he hit another kid. Even if she knew how often he’d been mistaken for Sam, she still wouldn’t give him a break. 

He kicked his legs hard on the bed angrily, not sure if it was directed at Sam or himself. Just as he was about to hurtle a pillow at the wall, the door swung open, and Sam stepped in. 

“This is it?” he asked. 

He nodded. 

Without complaining about getting the bottom bunk, Sam tossed his stuff down, shuffled around in one bag, and then laid down on the bed. 

Outside, it was starting to rain, and they were close enough to the beach that he could hear the ocean. Just a little ways away, Mom and Aunt Monica were on Martha’s Vineyard. He almost wished they had called his mom and sent him home. Even grounded, walking around Mom’s favorite places on the Vineyard would have been a better punishment than sitting in this rainy, leaky cabin with a boy who hated him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He almost didn’t hear him. 

“What?” Will asked. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I’m sorry I hit you.” 

_That was easier than he thought._ Will almost ducked his head to see him, but he heard a sniffle and figured Sam wouldn’t want him to look. “No, I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I was just mad.” 

“I was too.” 

Will sat up and started going through his bag. 

“You want some taffy?” 

“What?” 

“Taffy. My mom got some for me when we got to Maine.” 

He hopped off the top bunk, and sat down on the edge of the bottom. “Here.” 

He handed Sam a piece of the blue watermelon flavor Mom hated. 

“What is it?” 

“Blue watermelon.” 

Sam licked it, suspiciously. “Ew.” 

“It’s just fruit.” 

“It’s too sweet. What else you got?” 

Will searched through the bag. “There’s a cotton candy one,” he said, receiving a shriveled up nose from Sam. “Yeah, I figured. Oh, what about creamsicle one that my mom likes. It’s sweet, but not in the fruit way.” 

Sam took it, and chewed it experimentally. “I like it.” 

He grinned. “Well, it’s all yours. I like the fruit ones. Except grape, but we didn’t get any of that because Mom hates it too.” 

“What about your dad?” Sam asked. “What does he like?” 

His grin immediately faded. “I don’t know. He doesn’t live with us anymore. He wanted to, but he had to leave because… I don’t know, Mom never really told me.” 

“Oh,” Sam said. “That’s kind of like my mom.” 

“Yeah?” 

Sam held his stuffed… something? A Tribble maybe. Regardless, he held it closer to his chest. “Yeah. Dad and I moved to England when I was little. I was… I was sick, and he wanted to get me treatment. My mom worked at the FBI, so she knew a lot of dangerous people, and they didn’t want me around that I guess.” He shrugged, and stopped talking, his mouth full of taffy. 

“That’s weird,” Will said, sinking back onto the bed. The world was kind of spinning, information hitting him all at once. Could it be? He’d wondered about why his dad wasn’t around and why his mom wouldn’t talk about it… And this boy looked exactly like him... 

“It’s not my fault-“ Sam protested, but he cut him off. 

“No. It’s weird because my mom used to work at the FBI too. That’s where she met my dad.” 

“My dad met my mom at the FBI!” Sam said, eyes wide. “I wonder if our parents’ knew each other.” 

Will rolled his eyes, and smacked Sam upside the head, this time not caring the trouble he’d get in. 

“What was that for?” 

He looked at him, deadpan. “Sam is your birthday May 17th, 2001?” 

Sam’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you… Wait. Oh my god.” 

He stood up and started pacing around the room. “Your birthday is May 17th, isn’t it? And mine is May 17th. Your parents met at the FBI, and you’ve never met your dad. Mine met at the FBI and I’ve never met my mom.” 

He looked back at Will. “Oh my god.” 

He started chanting it, in complete disbelief. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” His feet were nearly leaving the floor with each excited step. 

“We’re twins,” he said, and suddenly, every angry thought Will had had about Sam disappeared, and he jumped off the bed to hug him. 

“Sam?” he said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Your nose isn’t so big.” 

Sam laughed. “Yours is.” 

“We have the same nose.” 

They pulled back, and Will pinched his nose hard. 

“So, what do we do?” 

Will looked at him. “What do you mean, what do we do?” 

“Well, we have to get them back together. Now that we know. We have to figure out why they broke up and why they didn’t tell us about each other.” 

“It was probably because you were sick or something. I dunno, like you said, they were with the FBI. All mysterious, and stuff.” Will shrugged. “I think we just keep it quiet, and then when we both want something really bad, like a new video game or seeing an R rated movie, we drop the bomb on them that we know we have a twin, and we have leverage.” 

Sam glared at him. “No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” 

“I mean, we have a once in a lifetime opportunity. When are we ever going to be in the same place again? As soon as we leave here, we won’t see each other ever, and there’s no telling when Mom and Dad will give up on seeing the other again. They’re gonna move on. They’ll get remarried, get new careers. All that grown-up stuff. And we have to make sure that they’re together.” 

Will sat up. “How do we do that?” 

“Well, maybe you could pretend to be me, and go see Dad. And I could pretend to be you and go see Mom. And we could figure out why they really got separated, fix it, and then force them to see each other again.” 

“But what about your sick stuff?” 

Sam thought about it, and dropped down to sit on the mattress next to him. “Right.” 

“I mean, are you still… like seeing doctors or whatever?” 

“Well, sort of. A couple times a year. But my last round of tests came back clear, which is why Dad let me go.” 

“So, maybe they wouldn’t notice.” Will was starting to get on board with Sam’s plan. 

“And even if they did, they’d still have to see each other to switch us back!” 

They grinned at each other, each becoming more and more excited at the prospect. 

* * *

They started on Mom first. 

They went through her favorite foods, Will’s favorite foods. Hobbies. The layout of the house, her friends, his friends, what they did on a normal day. With each word, it confirmed for Sam exactly what Dad had told him. That he would’ve loved her. 

“It’s good that you’re good at baseball, because I’m in a club for it every fall. I don’t know how long we can keep it up, but Mom will want you to practice.” 

“She likes baseball too?” 

Will shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think that it started because of Dad, and how much I liked it when I was little.” 

Sam immediately remembered something, and rushed over to his backpack. 

“What are you doing?” 

“This is the picture Dad gave me of her,” he said. “He doesn’t have a lot of them, but this one he kept in his wallet for a while, until I saw it and he gave it to me.” 

He handed Will the picture, and absently, he smiled. 

“Mom has a bunch of pictures of Dad and her, but they’re all locked up in a safe. She doesn’t even really look at them anymore.” 

He touched the edge of the photo, missing his mother and entranced by how much younger she looked then the version he’d known. It was always weird, seeing a photo of your parents before you knew them. 

“Do you have any photos of Dad?” Sam asked, curiously. 

“Just one. I don’t think Mom knows I took it. It was stuck to the bottom of an old gym bag that I was cleaning out for practice.” 

He opened his backpack, and pulled out the picture. It was blurry, taken at night with a cheap camera, but the nose, the eyes, the smile. He knew it was him. 

He handed it to Sam, praying he didn’t hand it back confused, saying it wasn’t him. 

“Whoa,” Sam said, and shuffled for the other picture, the one of Mom. “Whoa.” 

“What?” 

“These were taken on the same night,” Sam said. “Look at the sign in the background of both.” 

Will squinted. “Home Run Baseball. That’s the batting cage near our house. I always asked to go but Mom wouldn’t let us. She always took us to the one across town..” 

“They must’ve gone on a date there.” 

Sam watched him stare at the photo of Dad longingly. 

“Does she really not have a lot of pictures out of him?” 

Will shook his head. “No. She was really sad about him leaving for a while. And I guess about you going with him.” 

Sam looked down at the ground, almost feeling guilty for it even if he didn’t have a choice. “I know it’s weird but I miss her.” 

“Me too. And Dad.” 

“I can’t wait to meet her.” 

Will gave him a big smile. “Me too.” 

“So, have you always lived in this house?” 

“No, when I was little we lived on Martha’s Vineyard. Dad’s parents had a tiny cabin near the beach, along with their regular house, and Mom lived there with me. We moved back to Washington DC when I was in kindergarten, but we go back every summer before school.” 

“Martha’s Vineyard? Is that a garden or something?” 

Will scrunched up his eyebrows. “What? No, it’s an island. Near Boston, Cape Cod… do they teach you geography in your school?” 

“Do they teach you manners in yours?” 

Will punched his shoulder, and they continued. 

“Mom probably won’t take you there so I won’t draw the floor plan, but if she mentions it, tell her you want to go." 

Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Now, onto Aunt Monica.” 

“We already talked about her,” Sam said, looking through his notes. 

“Not enough. You’re going to have to change your aura. She always says mine is really blue, and I’m not sure what that means so you don’t have to either. But I have a feeling your aura is different and we don’t want her tipped off. Now, grab your pen, because you’re going to want to memorize some stuff about tea.” 

* * *

Shaking hands, Sam plugged in the electric razor they’d stolen from one of the counselors, and set it down on top of the endless maps and photographs they’d pooled to practice. 

“I don’t know about this,” Will said. 

Sam turned to him, and sighed. “If you come back with longer hair, Dad’s going to know something’s up. They were detectives, we have to be careful.” 

“Couldn’t I say it grew out?” 

“Two inches? In three weeks?” 

“I just don’t want the hedgehog cut you have. Or worse.” 

“Hedgehog?” he asked, touching his hair. 

“It’s all spiky and soft, like a hedgehog. I know mine gets like that too.” He was hyperventilating, and Sam grabbed him by his shoulders to steady him. 

“It’s fine. I used to cut the hair on Dad’s cat when it would get too fluffy and matted. I know how to use a razor.” 

“Dad had a cat?” 

“Yeah, but it ran away.” 

“What was its name?” 

Sam hesitated. 

“Come on, it’s basic trivia I’ll have to know.” 

“Scully.” 

“What?” 

Sam nodded. “You heard it. Scully.” 

“He gave a cat our last name?” 

“No, he named it after Mom. He said he kept wanting to talk to her, and they were both moody redheads so he figured it was close enough. But then Scully the cat ran away, and Dad was devastated for weeks. Don’t tell Mom though, he said she’d hate to find out he named a cat after her.” 

Will fought back a laugh, while Sam prepped the razor. “You ready?” 

Will winced, and shut his eyes. “Yeah, just do it.” 

“Okay,” Sam said, the razor buzzing in his hand. Nervous, he grabbed a piece of Will’s hair, and shut his eyes instinctively too. 

“What are you doing? Don’t close your eyes!” 

His eyes snapped open, and Will pushed him back. “Right, sorry.” 

“Ready again?” 

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.” 

And he began. 

Slowly at first, just touching up the ends and to get used to it. Then longer and longer brownish red clumps fell out, and by the end, they looked practically the identical. 

“Wow.” 

Sam tried to grab Will’s hand, but he pushed him away. “I can’t believe we’re almost done.” 

“Yeah.” 

They turned to each other, ready to quiz. 

“You know who Roberta is?” 

“Dad’s old nanny. She mostly drives us places, like from school to Dad’s restaurant and home.” 

“Right.” 

“Who’s Aunt Monica?” 

“Mom’s old coworker. She’s your Roberta.” 

“And?” 

“And she likes spooky stuff like Dad.” 

“And she’ll be able to know if your energy or aura is different than mine” 

Sam huffed. “Great, so my job is harder than yours.” 

“Are you kidding me? I have to fake some weird alien illness.” 

They both slumped. 

“We’re not going to get away with this,” Will said. 

“We can try. I don’t think they’ll get it immediately. Especially Mom. She doesn’t even know I’m in the country.” 

Will all of a sudden got really sad. 

“What is it?” 

He swallowed hard. “They must have missed us a lot.” 

Sam hugged him, fighting against Will trying to push him away. 

“That’s why- ow, come on- that’s, it’s why our plan has to work. Let me hug you.” 

* * *

The night before they left, they were finishing up packing, when a knock came to the door, and they both spun around. Luca stood in the doorway with a couple bags of popcorn. 

“Hey, guys. You all packed up? Pick up is bright and early tomorrow.” 

“Yup,” they said in unison. 

He squinted, looking at the two of them. “Boy, you guys look alike.” 

He tossed them their popcorn, and waved goodbye. 

“You want butter on yours?” Sam asked, opening his backpack. 

“What?” 

He grinned, and held out a fistful of the tiny, foil wrapped butter packets the camp gave out with toast. 

Will wrinkled his nose. “You want to put that? On popcorn? Cold butter?” 

Sam was too busy unwrapping them and dropping them in the bag. “You’re gonna have to get used to buttery popcorn. Dad loves it. He says it’s un-American to eat it without.” 

Will huffed, and grabbed a handful of Sam’s popcorn, including a hunk of cold butter. He winced, and ate it. “No, no, no. Ughhh.” 

He sighed, and ate the rest of it by the fistful. “Good luck getting past Dad.” 

“It’s going to be hard enough without Heywood. You really think he’ll believe you accidentally dropped him in the ocean?” 

Sam leaned back on his bed, and held the dog close. “Maybe.” 

The truth was he didn’t want to give him up. It was hard enough imagining not going back to see his dad after three whole weeks, but he definitely couldn’t handle it if Heywood wasn’t with him, smelling like home and the laundry detergent Dad cleaned him with once a month, at 2 in the morning when he thought Sam was asleep. 

“Well, I’ll try to make it convincing,” Will said, and climbed up onto his bunk. 

They laid in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the ocean, and the leaves rustling in the breeze. 

“Will?” Sam asked. “Are you nervous?” 

He sighed. “Yeah. A lot.” 

There was a few more minutes of silence, before Sam piped up again. 

“Will?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did Mom sing Jeremiah the Bullfrog to you, too?” 

“Yeah,” Will said. “But I can’t sing, so I’m not singing for you.” 

But he did.


	3. Aunt Monica Finds Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and giving feedback on this, it always makes my day!!!

It was raining, the morning Scully drove into camp. Wheels ground on the gravel driveway, and her windshield wipers were on max. 

There was a counselor near the entrance, holding a clipboard close to his chest, as though it made any difference with the downpour. “Where are you headed?” he yelled over the rain. 

“I’m picking up my son, William Scully. I think it’s the Blue Jay cabin.” 

“Scully? I think he was moved to the Whale cabin. It’s just up the road a little ways.” 

He pointed through the trees, and she nodded, praying it was just a logistical reason they had moved him. 

She got as close to the cabin as she could, before parking the car and running for it. She made it up the steps, into the leaky cabin, but not before she was soaked to the bone. 

“Will?” she asked, scanning the room. There was a set of bunkbeds, bottom empty, top full, and dangling his feet off the edge was Will, safe and sound as ever. She almost yelped when she saw his new haircut, but managed to suppress it. 

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for my son. His name is Will, and when I dropped him off a few weeks ago.” 

‘Will’ smiled, and hopped off the bed. 

“It’s me, Mom,” he said, almost like he was unused to saying it. 

“Really? You seem all grown up.” She smiled, and held her arms out wide. 

He seemed almost hesitant, nervous around her, but as soon as she smiled at him, he came running, and hugged her as tight as he could. She held him tight for a long time, and ruffled his hair. 

“You got a haircut,” she remarked. 

‘Will’ looked at the ground. “Yeah, one of the other boys did it for me.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, it looks nice. Any particular reason?” 

He looked at the floor guilty again. “I got gum in it.” 

She chuckled, and let him hug her again. 

“You all packed up?” she asked, stepping towards the bunkbeds. 

“I’ll take my backpack,” he said, grabbing it and holding it like it was the holy grail. She brushed it off, and grabbed his duffel. 

“You got everything? Baseball mitt, raincoat?” 

“Yup and yup.” 

“Well, I’d love you to tell me more, but how about we get out of this rain first?” she said, and he gave her a happy smile. 

“Sure.” He stepped forward and hugged her again. 

“What’s with all these hugs, honey? And around all of these people? You don’t want to lose your coolness.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t care, I’ve missed you too much.” 

“Me too,” she said. “I kinda hoped you would hate it.” 

He smiled. “Well, I did at first. But then I really liked it.” 

She led him back to the car, him unashamedly holding her hand like he was in kindergarten again. “So, you make any friends or did you have to resort to spooking them out?” 

“Yeah, a couple. One of them we got really close.” 

“Really? That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah, by the end we were almost like brothers.” 

He stared up at her, as though he was gauging her reaction, but she suppressed it as much as possible. _Brothers_. _What would he say when he really knew?_

“Well, I’m so glad you found a friend.” 

He smiled, and climbed in the car. 

“How was Martha’s Vineyard, Mom?” he asked. “And how’s Aunt Monica?” 

She looked in the rearview mirror, as they drove out of the campgrounds. “Good, and good. But you know about both of them, silly. I wanna hear about your camp time. Why did they move your bunk?” 

He bit his lip nervously. “Well… me and this other boy were… getting along well.” 

Scully raised an eyebrow. “Were you?” she asked in a flat voice. 

“And we were getting along so well that the camp made us stay in that cabin so that we would get along worse.” 

She smirked. “Something tells me that was the opposite.” 

He was quiet. 

“Well, I’m not too happy about you not getting along with someone, but considering I didn’t get any phone calls, I’m guessing you worked it out?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Definitely. We were really good friends by the end.” 

They made eye contact in the mirror. 

“Really, Mom. We’re good.” 

She gave him a smile. “Good.” 

\- - -

The first test for Will was if the Dwyers’ and Toby noticed anything. 

They left for the airport early that morning. He hugged Sam goodbye, and left, each of them dressed in each other’s clothes. 

The first leg of the trip, Toby was too tired to notice anything, and the Dwyers’ made small talk with him. From what he could tell, they didn’t need much convincing to think he was Sam. That said, with the number of times Mrs. Dwyer mentioned how Dad told them to bring him home without any scrapes or bumps, he wondered what his reaction would be when he found out they brought home the wrong kid entirely. 

It was early evening when they got into London, and Will jerked awake at the bumping of the landing. 

They got off the plane, following a throng of people who all had funny accents like the Dwyers, into the main airport complex. 

He looked around in bewilderment. He’d never been in another country before. All the signs had weird spellings, the people dressed ever so slightly different. Just as he was becoming more and more stunned by the second, Mrs. Dwyer grabbed him roughly by the sleeve and pulled him through the airport after Toby and his dad. 

They ended up in baggage claim, his excitement temporarily put on hold by the boring monotony of the conveyors and carousels. 

“Is that one yours…” Mr. Dwyer mumbled, watching each identical black suitcase travel around. 

“Don’t know which one’s yours,” a voice said, coming up behind them. “But I know this one’s mine.” 

Will felt two strong hands on his shoulders, and he spun around to find _him_ standing right behind him. 

“Dad?” he asked, taking it all in. He looked exactly like he’d pictured him, plus or minus a few grey hairs and smile lines. 

“Who else?” He held his arms out wide for a hug. 

“Dad!” he screamed, getting looks from everyone around them as he jumped up and tackled him. 

“Whoa,” he said, catching him but just barely. “Hey, I missed you, too.” 

Will gripped his shoulders like his life depended on it, and couldn’t believe it was really that man from his mom’s picture came to life. 

“I really hope you hated it, because you are not going back, we missed you too much around here.” 

He hugged him even tighter. “I missed you too, Dad.” 

He set him on the floor temporarily, and greeted the Dwyers, thanking them for bringing him back in one piece. Just as soon as he finished, Sam’s yellow duffel bag made its way around the carousel, and Dad bent down to grab it. 

“Is this it?” he asked, ruffling his hair. “Ready to go home?” 

Will smiled as wide as he could, and nodded, grabbing his hand outstretched. 

He led them out of the concourse, into the cold London evening. The air smelled like cities do: exhaust, fumes, sewers, wafts from restaurant kitchens. But there was something ever so different from DC about it. 

“So, where are we going, Dad?” he asked, the name feeling so unfamiliar to say. 

“Well, I figured the restaurant could survive without me for a night, so I thought we’d just go home and eat something there.” 

“Is Roberta making it?” he asked. 

“No, I’m gonna,” Dad said, reaching out a hand to hail a cab. 

“You?” he said, remembering what Real Sam had said about Dad’s cooking. 

“I know, I know. The fire department blacklisted us. But I swear I’ve been practicing since you’ve been gone.” 

“Practicing or just watching the Twilight Zone?” 

They slid into the backseat of a car, and Dad told the cabbie their address. 

“I can do both,” he eventually defended. “Especially with all the free time I had from not taking you to baseball club, or chess club, or space club, or mathletes, or-“ 

“I get it.” Will said, almost praying their game would be up before he had to fake his way through any of those clubs. “But you can really cook?” 

“Yes,” he said, in all seriousness. “I can really cook.” 

Will looked out the window at the unfamiliar cityscape, wondering what Sam and Mom were doing right then. 

“I really missed you, you know.” 

He turned to see Dad smiling at him. “I missed you, too.” 

“And I don’t mind taking you to those clubs.” 

He smiled. “Well, I can cut back if I need to.” 

Dad rolled his eyes, and pinched his cheek with his left hand. When he pulled back, Will noticed a glint of gold on his ring finger. He reached out and touched it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Where did you get this?” Will asked. 

“I’ve always had it. What, you’re just now noticing?” 

But he held out his hand for Will to examine more closely. 

“Why do you wear it?” he asked, quietly. It almost looked like a wedding ring. 

His dad didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was quiet. “For your mom, Sammy. You know that.” 

“Were you married to her?” he asked. 

“In our own way.” 

He leaned back, letting the hand go. 

“Does mom have one?” he asked. 

Again, it took a moment. 

“She did,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know if she does anymore.” 

“But you’ve worn it all this time.” 

He wouldn’t meet his eye, just turned and stared out the window. 

“Dad?” he asked, but got no response. 

He just sank back in his seat, and watched the cars go by. 

\- - -

They arrived back in DC the next day, smelling like takeout windows and rest stop bathrooms. 

“First things first: Laundry.” 

Sam was too tired to argue with his mom, and too tired to take in his environment. “Mhmm. Where’s Boomer?” 

He’d wondered where the dog was, and if he’d be able to get past him without noticing. 

“Mmm, he’s still with Grandma, I’m gonna pick him up tomorrow." 

He blindly handed her his duffel bag, and made his way to the bathroom. Will said it was up the stairs, around the corner, on the left, but in his tired haze, he turned right, grabbed the door handle, and tried to walk right into a linen closet. 

“Wow, you must be exhausted,” Mom said, coming up behind him. “Bathrooms in there.” 

She put a firm hand on the top of his head, and gently twisted so he would see through the door across the hall. 

“I put fresh sheets on your bed before I left, so you can go take a nap if you like. Aunt Monica is coming over this evening, so I’ll wake you up then.” 

He nodded, and walked in to take a shower. The handle was weird, different then Dad’s apartment, but eventually, he figured it out. 

It took him a few minutes, afterwards, to find Will’s bedroom. He was far from an artist, and the maps he’d drawn weren’t accurate enough. But luckily, Mom was too busy downstairs and couldn’t catch him fumbling with different doorknobs. 

Will's room was so _Will_ that it almost worried him that he’d seem out of place. Sports posters covered the walls, books about spooky stuff lined every surface. Everything was blue or green, a strange parallel to his own reds and yellows. Too tired to take it all in, he found Heywood in his backpack, collapsed on the bed, and fell asleep. 

He awoke just as the sun was setting, casting yellow stripes through the bedroom blinds. 

He slowly got out of bed, and crept towards the stairs, before realizing there were voices. Two. Mom, and some other lady. 

“Dana, you aren’t serious,” she said, as he sat down on the stairs, close enough to hear them well, but far enough out of sight to not get caught. “You’re actually considering Skinner’s offer?” 

Sam wished he had his notepad with him. Who was Skinner? He’d have to call Will once Mom went to bed. 

“Yes, I am,” she said, firmly. 

“Dana, you don’t know what Mulder is thinking or doing. You don’t know what happened with Sam. They could be fine, they could be finishing up those treatments, and about to move back home.” 

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it, Monica.” _So that was Aunt Monica_.“I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know a single thing about my son. I have been away from him for eight years, and I’m done. For all I know, he's is perfectly fine and Mulder is just happy and content with his life and he doesn’t want to come back. At worst, he's is incredibly sick, and I have no idea. But if I go back to work at the Bureau, at least I can try and reduce the threat, figure out who’s responsible, and potentially get him back. I need to meet my son. And Will deserves to have a brother.” 

Monica was really quiet, and for a second, Sam worried that they’d moved out of earshot. 

“You don’t really think Mulder’s moved on, have you?” 

He heard the couch thump, and his mom let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I let him go. We could have gone together, but I wasn’t able to leave. And so he’s had to take care of our son on his own, and I know how stressful it’s been doing the same for Will. I can’t imagine how it’s been with Sam, and the health issues.” 

“But you think he’d ever be happier in a life there, then in a life with you?” 

“Maybe,” she said, bitterly. “For all I know, he’s been married off to some blonde named Carol or Meredith, and running a French vineyard, making wine to ship over here and sell to depressed moms.” 

Monica scoffed. “My guess is that he’s just as upset as you are for being apart from you and Will for so long. And it’s only a matter of time before you’re reunited.” 

“Even if we were-“ Mom said. “Even if he came back, who’s to say that we’d even be compatible. That we wouldn’t burn out on month two and end up on opposite sides of the Atlantic again, and I get to see my boys every other Christmas, and for a month during the summer.” 

“Alright, I think you need to take it easy,” Monica said. 

Sam pulled his knees closer to his chest, and buried his face in them. It was everything he could do not to rush downstairs, reveal the game to Mom and tell her that Dad misses her that much too. 

“I really miss him, Monica. Both of them.” she said. “And I’ve sat around for eight years waiting for him to come back. He knew it was up to him. And I haven’t heard a thing. I need to do something. And what Skinner was offering- low hours, low-profile cases. And I can work on S-…” her voice faded out, just as he could have sworn she would say his name. “And I can work on my son’s case. It seems worth the risk.” 

Monica sighed deeply. “Just think about it for a while longer, okay? Don’t make any choices now.” 

Scully reluctantly agreed, and they started talking about something else, some guy named John, and a woman Monica liked. He peeled himself away from the conversation, no longer wanting to sleep. 

He crept into Mom’s bathroom, and turned on the bath loudly, and dialed Dad’s number. 

Dad picked up, and it nearly sent him into panic. 

“Hello?” he asked. “Who is this?” 

It was everything for him to not say “hi Dad”, like normal. 

“Hi,” he said, in a really high-pitched voice. “It’s Brian from camp, can I talk to W-to Sam?” 

“Hi Brian from camp, do you know it’s eleven at night?” 

“Yes?” 

There was a long pause, but he sighed, and said, “Yes, hold on.” 

“Hi Brian,” Will said, yawning, and he heard some shuffling and a door shut. “Hey, Sam.” 

“Will, we have a problem.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Mom’s about to take a job at the FBI again.” 

Will’s voice hitched. “What?! She can’t do that. Dad won’t want to come back then.” 

“She said it was because she thought he didn’t want to come back, and she wanted to find a way to find me.” 

“Crud,” Will said. 

“Everything okay?” Dad’s voice called, hollow and far away. 

“Yeah,” he called. “I just forgot my hat at camp.” 

He didn’t even have to hear Dad say it to know he asked why they called at nearly midnight to tell them that. He stayed silent until he was sure Dad wasn’t listening in. 

“You forgot your hat?” 

“I would have had a better excuse if you called at our normal hours.” 

“It’s an emergency, what do I do? What would you do?” 

“I don’t know, but I have my own problems here. Being you is hard.” 

“Uhhhh,” he grunted. “It’s not fun being you either. 

“We have to get Dad back to see Mom.” 

"I know. I’ll try to figure it out. Just make sure Dad doesn’t figure us out until after I stop Mom from taking the job. If they find out, and Mom takes it, who knows what will happen.” 

All of a sudden, Will’s voice changed. “I know, I know. And yes, right. So, Brian, you _don’t_ mind keeping my hat until next summer? Great! Talk to you later, bye.” And the call immediately cut off. 

Sam sighed, and hung up his side as well. He leaned back against the toilet tank and listened to the bath going. But not for long. 

“Will?” a knock came to the door, and he shot up like he’d sat on a rose bush thorn. 

“Just a minute,” he screamed, and scrambled around before realizing he had nothing to hide. 

“Hi Mom,” he said, opening the door. 

She smiled, curiously. “What’re you going?” 

“I was thinking of taking a bath.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, was I supposed to not?” 

“You know you’re banned from my bathroom,” she said, stepping around him to turn off the bath water, and guide him out of the room. “Punishment for last year’s Halloween prank that left a red ring around my nice clawfoot tub.” 

“Right...” he said. “That… Sorry.” He glared at Will’s picture on the wall as they passed. 

“Well, while you’re awake, how about some dinner? Your Aunt Monica’s here, and she wanted to see you.” 

“Okay,” he said, quietly sucking his stomach in and ruffling his hair, trying to seem more Will-like. 

\- - -

“So,” Mulder said, slowly, leaning against the doorway. “Brian from camp?” 

’Sam' shrugged, and gave an innocent smile. “I know. He’s terrible with math and time zones, sorry.” 

“And you just had to take the call in the hall closet?” 

“Better acoustics.” 

“Mhmm.” Something didn’t sit right with him. 

“Well, while you’re up and it’s so ungodly hot, you want some ice cream? I think we have some Moose Tracks left.” He turned to head towards the kitchen. 

“No thanks, I don’t like Moose Tracks.” 

Mulder stopped in his tracks and turned back to him curiously. “You don’t like Moose Tracks?” 

‘Sam' seemed to go through ten stages of panic in half a second. “Nope,” he said, shakily. “I LOVE it!” 

He lowered his eyes, and nodded slowly. “Alright.” 

‘Sam' followed him out to the kitchen like a puppy, and plopped down on one of the stools at the counter. 

“Dad?” he asked, as he started dishing up the ice cream. 

“Yeah?” 

“How did you meet Mom?” 

He smiled, momentarily, remembering each day, each night, each week he met each layer of her. “Simple. At work, you know that.” 

“I know that I know _that_. But I wanted to know more specifically.” 

Mulder sighed, and brought over the two bowls, leaning down on his forearms on the counter so they were at eye level. “I was working on a case one day, and she walked into the office all smart and tough, and we just started talking. Simple.” 

“Well, if it was so simple, why did you have to leave?” 

“Why do you keep asking these questions you already know? Because you were getting sick and I wanted to get you treatment.” 

“But why didn’t Mom come with us.” 

“Because of some of the people we had to deal with at work. They were dangerous and we didn’t want to take any chances with us both leaving.” 

“Well, then, why did you take me and not her? You said she was a doctor, so wouldn’t she have been better at medical stuff?” Sam was firing off questions faster than his sleep-deprived brain could handle. 

“I don’t know,” he said, not making eye contact with those far-too inquisitive eyes. “I guess I was just more familiar with this place than she was. Now, eat your ice cream before it melts.” 

Mulder took his bowl, and walked over to the couch, trying to eat without any more questions. 

“Dad?” a little voice came. 

He sighed, and glanced over to Sam barely touching his Moose Tracks. 

“What is it?” 

“If the doctor’s say that I’m really okay, forever. Does that mean we could go back and see Mom?” 

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, glad Roberta wasn’t here to take Sam’s side. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. 

He braced himself for more questions, but when he opened his eyes, Sam was gone, his bowl still out on the counter, and his barstool spinning in his absence.

\- - -

Dinner was lowkey. Lowkey, but boring.

Aunt Monica seemed cool, even though she stared at him in a funny way. Sam tried to straighten himself throughout the meal, sitting up, then leaning back, and back again, before resigning that even Will wasn’t this awkward with his movements. It was strangely silent, as Mom and Aunt Monica talked about a man called John, and his retirement. Occasionally, they’d reference him, give a little explanation about who someone was ("Uncle Skinner, you remember him, don’t you?"), or where Lasko, Virginia was (“It’s nowhere. It’s utterly nowhere. I mean, really, Dana, you should have seen John's place. His roommate was a bear.” Sam giggled at that last bit.) 

Sam picked at his peas and carrots, not having the appetite for it. They were hard and uncooked. Dad at least would cook them. Sometimes he put brown sugar on the carrots and they tasted really good. 

The phone rang with a trill, and Mom rose to grab it. 

Sam watched her pick it up, listen for a few seconds, and get a worried expression on her face. “Monica, I’m going to take this in the other room.” 

He glanced over to see Monica fixated on him, who took a moment to respond. “What? Okay, I’ll start cleaning up.” 

Mom took the phone, and went down the hall and into her room. The door shut as Monica started clearing all the plates into the kitchen. 

He was about to escape upstairs, when he heard footsteps come up behind him. 

“Not so fast, mister.” 

He froze and turned, seeing Aunt Monica with her hands on her hips. “Yeah?” 

“What’s going on?” she asked. “You’re not yourself. You don’t eat your peas and carrots, you don’t remember Skinner… if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were…” Her face softened, as though she realized he wasn’t a dangerous shape-shifter of some kind. 

“You’d say I was who?” he asked. 

She glanced over her shoulder, at the closed bedroom door. “It can’t be. She would have noticed…” 

“It can’t be… that I’m Sam?” he asked. 

Monica’s attention snapped back to him. “How do you know about Sam?” 

He chewed his lip and stared at his feet. He hated lying. He couldn’t do it as well as Will, and it had already been a day and a half. He just needed to tell one person. “I am Sam.” 

He looked up at Monica, who was frozen herself. 

Just then, Mom came running out, grabbing frantically for her keys and purse and coat, nearly missing Sam and Monica, stood in place. 

“Monica, I’m so sorry to do this, but Skinner said he wanted me to meet some of the other supervisors for a cocktail hour, do you mind staying with- why are you staring at Will like that?” 

She straightened up. “I’m not staring at him like anything. Certainly not like it’s been years since I’ve seen him, and now he’s growing right up. And, uh, yeah I’ll stay with him, of course. You want some dessert, sweetie? What do you like? You know what, I’ll just whip up everything your mom has.” 

She stumbled back into the kitchen, leaving him in relief and his mother in bewilderment. 

“What’s with her?” 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she just missed me.” 

His mom smiled, and ruffled his hair, before pulling him in for a hug. “I won’t be gone for too long, I swear. And I’ll be up to say good night when I’m back.” 

“Okay.” 

“Brownies?” Monica called from the kitchen. “That sound good?” 

“Tell her yes,” Mom said. “And save me some when you’re done.” 

And for a moment, in the warmth of her smile, it all kind of faded away. The stress of being away from Dad. The worry about her job. Monica figuring him out after ten seconds. It all went away. This was his mom. The woman he’d dreamt of for eight years. And she was here, and real, and lovely, and hugging him goodbye, and it wasn’t even a permanent goodbye. And when she finally rushed out the door, he expected the world to go cold again, but instead, there was plenty of love filling the gap. 


	4. That's A Weekend Food

Mulder awoke with a throbbing headache, and deep-rooted feeling of guilt. He shouldn’t have snapped at Sam last night. It was good he was curious about his mother, he’d be worried if he was indifferent. But for all the time he spent fantasizing about the very thing Sam had asked (going home, seeing her again, seeing Will again), it hurt even more when he had to be the adult. When he had to identify that as just a fantasy. 

Groaning, he rolled out of his cold, empty bed, and walked down the hall to Sam’s room. It was late in the morning anyway, they needed to get up. 

The room seemed ever so slightly different. It lacked the usual Sam-mess, but he figured his son’s messiness was an art, and best not rush a master. 

But there was something else. Something missing. 

His hand was hovering over ’Sam’s’ shoulder when he realized what was wrong. Heywood wasn’t tucked under his chin like normal. Panicking, he crept around, trying to see if he had fallen off, or gotten stuck under the bed. He even checked backpacks and dresser drawers, but Heywood was nowhere in sight. 

Mulder, heart racing like he was hiding from a murderer, tiptoed out of his eight year old’s bedroom, and raced down the hall to the laundry closet, digging frantically through baskets and laundry bags. He tried the bathroom, the kitchen, the weird little closet by the door they didn’t keep anything in. Nothing. No couch cushion was left unturned, he even checked _his_ bed in case Heywood had been temporarily possessed by the ghost of Queequeg, who returned from the dead to use his bed like a fire-hydrant one more time. But that little devil was nowhere. 

Praying, he called the Dwyers and left a message, hoping he’d gotten mixed up in some of their things, and wasn’t left halfway across the world. He might _have_ to call Scully then, but what would he even say? 

_“Scully? It’s me. I sent our son back to the States by himself, stupidly, and he forgot his beloved Pomeranian stuffed animal. Ironic? Yes, I know. Look, I know I haven’t spoken to you in eight years, and I forfeited both of our chances at meeting our other son, but I was wondering if you could drive ten hours to Maine, break into a closed summer camp, find their lost and found, and send it back to me? Thanks.”_

He collapsed at the table, dropping his head hard on the top with a thud. 

What made it worse is that she would actually do it. She’d drive that long for a boy she hadn’t met because and only because he was her son. And boy, did he see what Roberta was saying about him being a grade-A ass not telling her he was coming back. 

Just as he was planning an elaborate story for Sam that he’d never believe, complete with stuffy-obsessed burglars and Heywood involved with an international conspiracy, ‘Sam' walked into the kitchen yawning like nothing was different. 

“Hey Dad,” he said, climbing up on the counter like he’d told him not to a thousand times over, to get cereal out of the high cabinet. 

“Hey… buddy,” he said, watching him carefully for signs of crying himself to sleep or minor trauma. “You sleep alright?” 

He shrugged. “Yeah. It was good. The bunks at Camp Billings were awful.” 

He plopped down across the table, and started shoveling in cereal like it was his first meal in a week. 

“Slow down there,” he said. “You’re not gonna get cut off.” 

Sam looked at the box, Extra-Frosted-Frosted-Flakes. “Have we always had this?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Yep,” he said, slowly, wondering what was going on. “We’ve had those for years. By the way, it is Tuesday, and you know that that’s a weekend food, but I’ll let it slide considering the time change.” 

“Oops,” he giggled, no remorse on his face at all. 

“Sam? Buddy?” he said, trying to get his attention back from the second helping he was already beginning. “Do you know where Heywood went? I didn’t notice him in bed with you this morning.” 

“Who?” he said, between bites, before freezing like he’d failed a polygraph test. “Oh, right, yeah. Didn’t hear you right… Heywood is my beloved stuffed dog. He, uh, got lost, at camp.” 

Mulder’s expression softened. “I’m so sorry. When did it happen?” 

Sam shrugged. “Like… second week? I think. Third? No, second.” 

“Did you tell any of the counselors?” 

He thought about it, thoroughly chewing his bite. “I did. I did do that. But a lot of stuffed animals go missing, and, uh... because of lice, they always throw them out.” 

“Oh god,” Mulder said. “I’ll call the camp and see if they saved him by any chance, I know how much he means to you. Or, one of your bunkmates might have it. I remember when I was a kid, I lost some of my stuff at camp and it was just mixed in with some other kid’s stuff.” 

“No!” Sam said, jumping up. “No, they don’t need to be bothered with that. Besides, they won’t even remember me. And my bunkmate wouldn’t know anything about it.” 

He smiled. “Sam, it’s sweet you care, but Heywood's important to you. They won’t be bothered.” 

“But I’ve made my peace with it. I’m back to sleeping without him.” 

“You?” Mulder said. “The boy who kept me up crying all night before that giant wedding party at the restaurant because Heywood had gotten locked in the laundromat overnight by accident?” 

“Yep,” he declared. “I’m a new man, Dad. All grown up. And as glad as I am for Heywood’s presence, and as much as I’ll miss him, I think I’m okay.” 

Mulder sat back down, stunned. “They teach grammar at that camp?” 

Sam looked confused, but returned to eating his cereal. 

He watched him for a long time, wondering what the hell was going on. 

“I’m… I’m gonna get a shower,” he said. “Really, Sammy, you gotta slow down on that stuff or you’ll choke.” 

He hummed in understanding, and Mulder rose to take that shower. He paused, in the kitchen doorway, staring back at Sam’s head. It was nearly vibrating from all the sugar, but it looked exactly the same as before. 

“Weird,” he mumbled, and hoped the cold shower would wake him up from this strange dream. 

* * *

“So, tell me again,” Aunt Monica said, dipping her brownie corner in milk and swirling it around. “What exactly you were thinking when you decided to switch places?” 

Sam scowled, and cut another middle section loose. “It wasn’t _that_ stupid.” 

She sighed. “I get where you’re coming from, but really, Sam. I was there when your parents learned about your…” she waved a hand around his head and chest. 

“Issues?” he supplied. 

“ _Gifts_ ,” she said. “And I know how worried they were and I was too. Trust me, your mom and dad wouldn’t be separated if this weren’t what was absolutely safest for both you and Will.” 

“You heard the part about my tests being negative and all right?” 

“And I also know that health things can come back.” She dropped her head on her hands. “Look, I’m not going to be the one to tell your mom. One, she probably wouldn’t believe me, but two, it needs to come from you.” 

“But we can’t. We still need to figure out why they broke up and how to get them back together.” 

“Oh, I could tell you that,” she said, talking between bites. "They broke up because they wanted to protect you, and they weren’t able to communicate very well as rushed and scared as they were. And getting them back together? Not a chance. Not now at least, they’ll have to really want to.” 

Monica had that same look on her face that Roberta and his tutors at school always had when he was stubborn. The “I know more so I’m right” look. It made him want to scoff and sink in his chair. 

“What do you mean ’not a chance'?” 

“Look,” she said, pushing her finger along the bottom of the brownie pan, gathering up all the melted chocolate to lick off. “I didn’t know your parents until after they were together, but from what I’ve heard, it took a millennium, a trip to Chicago, and running into your mom’s ex… friend, to get them together.” 

“And baseball.” 

Monica took a second to compose herself, trying very hard not to smile. “You know about baseball?” 

He shrugged. “I guessed.” 

“Not the whole story, I’m assuming. What they did…” she stared at him, until it hit him _what_ they did. 

“Eww gross, I don’t want to know that. I just know they played baseball.” 

“Well, my point is, they both love you and Will so much that that scaredness-“ 

“I know what fear is.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Man, I miss Will. He didn’t sass me like this.” 

He gave her a funny expression. 

“ _My point is_ , that fear that drove them apart is still very real, and even though they clearly still love each other, or so you say-“ 

“They do.” 

“They’re going to think about what’s best for you and Will, rather than what’s best for them. And even back when they didn’t have to worry about you and your brother, it still took them seven years to get their feelings straightened out. It will always just be easiest for them to look out for you.” 

“But what’s best for them is best for us! Why did they separate us?” 

Monica sighed, and moved to soak the brownie pan. “I don’t know. That part was unclear. I think they were just scared. Twins are pretty important with medical studies, and I think they thought more distance between you would keep you safer while you healed from your… gifts.” 

He rolled his eyes. _Gifts_. 

He was about to ask an endless barrage of follow-up questions, but he heard a lock click in the door, and footsteps come inside. 

“Hey-y.” 

He straightened up, suddenly hyperaware of his mom coming into the room. 

“Will! You should be in bed.” She took his chin in her hand, and wiped off some brownie crumbs from his cheek with her thumb. “Brush your teeth first, though.” 

He nodded, and hurried off, but not before giving Monica a pointed look. 

“What was that about?” He heard Mom ask, even as he walked upstairs. 

“Nothing,” Aunt Monica said. “He’s just mad I made him save the last one for you.” 

* * *

Will was over the moon. 

First, Moose Tracks ice cream (not his favorite, but it was ice cream nonetheless). Now, a sugary cereal? 

Dad had caught him off guard with all the questions about Heywood, but he thought he’d handled it well. He’d originally thought Sam was exaggerating Heywood’s importance, but now he was reevaluating his strategy. He’d have to look sad a couple times about him, in the next few days, to really sell it. And cut down on the grammar stuff. But he’d thought British people were supposed to be intelligent? 

It really freaked him out, this business with Sam’s sickness. Sam hadn’t told him much, but he saw Dad’s records in the hall bookshelf last night after Dad had gone to sleep, and Will wandered around some more. They were tediously kept, handwritten. He could really tell that Dad loved Sam. One of the sections was a detailed record of Sam at his sickest, in four minute increments. 

> _11:57pm, fever: 101, neck rash approx. 7cm, darker red. 12:01am, fever 101.01, neck rash approx 7cm, same dark red. And it went on like this for a day and a half._

It made him feel small and guilty, the way lying and getting away with it always did. But more than that, he was scared that when Dad figured out he wasn’t really Sam, he’d be more worried about Sam, than he would be happy to see him. 

It must have been terrifying. Worrying about his kid the whole time, being the only one to watch over him. Sam had said Dad was always worried that someone would break in and take him away, or follow them for too long. He’d anticipated Dad to give him a version of Mom’s stranger danger/how to be safe a million different ways talk. Not to have him give no indication that something was wrong, and weather the stress of it himself. 

But Sam lasted eight years, and was just fine. That was what he told himself, trying too hard to ignore the fear everyone around him had. Sam was right, enough was enough, it’s time, and unless something happened between now and when they tried to switch them back, there was a good chance of their mission succeeding. 

That was it. Right? 

Surely, there couldn’t be any logic to these threats. 

Parents worry all the time. 

But Sam was worried, too. 

But Sam was scared of everything. One morning there was a frog in his slipper, and Sam screamed so many curse words Gramma would have run out of bars of soap. 

So, of course, nothing was going to happen. In fact, he ought to just live it up while he could. Eat a lot of sugary cereal, spend time with Dad. In his snooping the night before he found a complete collection of Star Trek, and that could keep him busy for a day, maybe two. 

Eagerly, he pushed back his chair, expecting a scratch, but hearing a thump. 

He froze, bowl in hand. 

_It was nothing_ , he told himself. _Old building, old floors._

Then, there was another thump. And another. Like doors closing in the apartment building, and footsteps drawing near. Below the front door, he saw two feet appear, casting a shadow into the doorway. Dad hadn’t told him they were expecting anybody. 

His heart pounded in his chest. The shower was running and Dad didn’t know what was going on. The person in the hall shuffled, and cursed lightly, as though they were preparing a sledgehammer or chainsaw just for him. Will’s arms and legs started to shake, and his grip on the bowl loosened, and then, and then- 

The door flew open with a crash, and Will screamed louder than he’d ever screamed before. Dad came running out to the living room, dripping wet in pajama pants and a backwards-inside out shirt. 

“Sam? Sam!” he yelled, running towards him, but stopping in his tracks. It was only then that Will realized the crashing sound was his cereal bowl, now scattered in pieces over the floor. 

He’d stopped screaming, but was still crying, as Dad stepped into his work shoes, each on the wrong foot, and carefully stepped over the broken ceramic to pick him up, and bring him to the couch. 

“Sam?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

“I must’ve scared him,” Roberta said, leaning an umbrella up on the coat rack. “I know you were gone a while, Sammy, but I didn’t think you’d forget about me entirely.” 

“Who are you?” he asked, still shaking and unable to remember the cast of characters Sam had listed off. 

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed, and he knelt on the ground in front of him. He touched his forehead. “What do you mean? Are you okay, Sam?” he asked. “Are you feeling bad? Roberta, my hand’s too cold, can you check for a fever?” 

_Roberta_ , Will realized. _Oh god, Sam wouldn’t have forgotten Roberta._

“He’s not warm,” she said, feeling his forehead. 

“Can I see the back of your neck?” Dad asked, touching his hoodie sleeve. 

“No,” Will said, sniffling. “My neck is fine.” 

“You know that for sure?” 

“Yeah,” he said, officially deciding to give up. He could try to salvage the lie, but the game was already up when he didn’t know Roberta. Plus, he was pretty sure Mom didn’t let him eat this much sugar for a reason. His stomach felt like he’d just been on a Tilt-O-Whirl at the fair. 

Hands still shaking, he pulled the hoodie over his face. “Yeah, I’m sure. Because I’m not Sam.” 

“You’re not Sam?” Dad chuckled. “Well, then who are you and what have you done with him?” 

He peaked out, nose nestled in the collar of his sweatshirt like Kilroy. “I’m Will. Sam’s in Washington DC with his mother Dana Scully.” 

Dad and Roberta looked at each other with horror on their faces. 

“It can’t be,” he murmured, looking back at him. “Will?” 

He nodded, and smiled a little. “Sorry for tricking you.” 

Dad was frozen, the look on his face one he couldn’t read. 

Roberta broke her confused stare first, and leaned down to kiss his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Will. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.” 

He smiled, and shook her hand. 

“I’m going to clean up the broken dishes and give you two a minute to catch up. Will, come and get me if your dad doesn’t pick his ridiculous, unshaven jaw off the floor.” 

She bopped Dad on the head as she passed by, and hissed: “That’s your son, say something.” 

They sat in silence for a second. 

“I know you’re probably worried about Sam-“ 

He was interrupted by Dad pulling him into a deep hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “I’m sorry for not recognizing you immediately.” 

Will smiled, and sniffled into his shoulder. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.” 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, pulling back to look at him. “I mean, holy shrimp-“ 

“It’s okay, Mom curses a lot too.” 

Dad laughed, and cupped his cheeks. “How…” 

“We met at camp. Sam and I. He’s fine, by the way. Except for when I punched him. But he punched me too, so we’re even. And he really wanted to meet Mom, and I really wanted to meet you. I mean, I didn’t know anything about you, and so we kinda switched places. Are you mad?” 

He smiled. “Of course not. A bit confused, but mostly just thrilled.” 

“Good,” he breathed, and buried his face in his shoulder again. 

“So, that’s what all those questions were about.” He twisted his ring around his finger. “Your mom didn’t tell you anything about me?” 

Will shrugged. “A couple things. Not much though, she was always really sad about you, and I guess, Sam too. But no offense Dad, this plan really sucks.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Why didn’t you guys tell us about each other?” 

“We just didn’t want you to feel like you were missing someone this important, like we felt when we had to go different ways.” 

“Oh,” Will said, seeing how upset his dad was about being apart from them, and how prying more would just hurt more. But Dad smiled warmly, and wiped a few tears off his cheeks. 

“So,” he said. “You going to tell me what exactly the plan was here?” 

“I don’t know. We just wanted to meet you, and we hoped that we could maybe get you back together. Especially with Sam doing better and all. But I guess you’ll have to switch us back now, huh?” 

He thought about it a long time, but reached out and took his hand. “Technically, we wanted you to be separate so that it was less of a risk. Sam’s condition… no one really knew much about it, and twins are really valuable in research.” 

“So, is that a yes?” Will asked, disappointedly. 

“It’s an… I love you. And I really don’t want to be away from you anymore, but you are supposed to live with your mom, and Sam has to be with me so doctors can keep an eye on him.” 

Will curled deeper into the couch, upset. 

“Hey, hey,” Dad said. “None of that. You don’t have to worry. I’ll figure it out with Mom, and you two don’t have to worry about it, I promise.” 

He nodded, and climbed over to hug him once again. 

“It’s alright, Will. We won’t be separated for too long.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise. Do you have your mom’s number-“ 

Will pulled away, and stood up. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ll call her.” 

“Sa-“ he slipped. “Will-" 

“Really, Dad. She’s not going to believe anyone that I’m okay until she hears it from me. I’ll call her and tell her we’ll come to DC, and you guys can figure out logistics.” 

Dad mouthed ‘logistics’, and with a shake of his head, he smiled. “Alright. Call her. But tell her I want to talk to her next.” 

Will nodded, and grabbed a phone off the hook, and ran into his room. 

He dialed fast. “Hi Ms. Scully, can I talk to Will? It’s Brian from camp.” 

He shut the door, and pressed himself against the far wall to limit the sound. “Sam? Dad’s onto us. We’re coming back soon, you need to stop Mom from taking the job.” 


	5. Maybe It's the Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, in writing the last chapter I realized it was going to be unbelievably long, and so I’m splitting it up into two. This is the first, and hopefully I’ll have the last out next week. Again, this is NOT the finale. There’s one more to go.

The plan was simple. They’d meet at the predetermined location (‘Home Run Baseball’), and recreate the first date before they could worm their way out of this again. 

When Will went out to tell his Dad that that was the plan, there was almost a disappointment in his eye. 

“What did you say the address was again?” he asked. 

Will shifted on his feet. “1308 Bullock Road…” 

“…Bullock… What part of DC is that in?” he asked. 

“Sorta near Arlington. It’s the baseball field I have practice at.” 

“Oh,” Dad said. “Not her house?” 

Will suppressed a grin at his sadness, but managed to shrug. “It’s what she said.” 

He nodded slowly. “Maybe I should call her back. Run over some logistics-“ 

“No!” Will said, stepping back. “She… she wasn’t too happy about it all, I would let her cool down until we get to DC.” 

It was starting to sting, the hurt that was in his dad’s eyes, but he nodded, and forced a smile. “Well, I’d better get packing then, huh?” 

Will watched him go, a little disappointed about lying again, but excited to see the look on his face. 

* * *

She’s said no about ten thousand times already, and warned him that the 10,001st would be a one way ticket to grounding. 

“You know how busy my schedule is, and why are you so intent on going to that field? Why not our normal one?” 

“We’ve never been to this one,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, because it’s in worse condition and more expensive. Honey, enough with the questions, and I’ll see if Monica can take you next week sometime.” 

“No!” he yelled, pounding on the table. “It has to be you, and it has to be this Thursday night!” 

“Will! I don’t know where this attitude came from, but I’m definitely not going to do you any favors while you have it.” 

“But-“ 

“No ‘buts’. Besides, I can’t take you this Thursday because of my meeting at the Bureau. Grandma’s gonna watch you.” 

He stopped caring about his ‘Will’ character a long time ago. If she wasn’t going to notice the change, then he wasn’t going to put in the effort. He let the heartbreak play right out on his face. 

“You’re really going back to the FBI?” he asked. 

Scully looked confused. “Yeah, I told you that a few days ago.” 

“But do you have to?” 

Dad would have told him why he might have to. But she didn’t. “Yeah, I do.” 

“But-“ 

“Will,” she said, defeated. “I don’t like the idea of it either, but it’s only for a little while, and it’s important.” 

He pouted, and slid off his chair. 

“Where are you going?” 

“My room,” he said. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Sweetie, sit down. Let’s talk about this.” 

He sat, but didn’t touch his food. His mom was six bites in before she noticed he wasn’t eating. 

“Alright, honey, what’s going on? Are you okay? You’ve been really withdrawn the last few days, and you’re not eating your beets. You love when I make them like that.” 

He shrugged, giving his Will-impersonation half-effort. “Yeah, I just… I don’t know, they taste a little different, but I’ll eat them now.” He started gobbling them up, trying to imagine they were the plum candies Dad bought him last winter, instead of the soggy root vegetable they were. 

“Jeez, slow down. You don’t have to swallow them like pills.” She smiled down at him with such a warm look on her face, he could tell why Dad liked her so much. Even just that made him less mad at her. “I didn’t think camp would spoil your appetite _this_ much. It’s like you’re a whole other...” 

Immediately, the look on her face changed to horror, and he felt scared he had done something wrong. Did he accidentally insult her? Did she not like when little boys didn’t eat their vegetables. 

But instead, she slid out of her seat, and clambered over to his side of the table, sitting level with him on the floor. 

“It can’t be-“ she breathed, looking him up and down. She grabbed his cheeks and squeezed, and tilted his head from side to side. She checked his eyes, and his bangs, and ran her thumb over the freckles on his cheek. 

“Maybe it can be?” he said, not sure what she was talking about. 

She smiled, tears bubbling in her eyes. He started to reassure her, hating the sight of her crying immediately, but she just shook her head, and pulled him in for a deep hug. 

“I should have known,” she said, muffled by his shoulder. “I should have known immediately, I am so sorry.” 

He hugged her back, and buried his nose in her chest. “Known what?” 

She pulled back with the biggest smile on her face. “You are so much like him, I can’t believe I didn’t know. But then again, Will’s so much like him too.” 

“What do you mean Will?” he asked, nervously. “I’m Will.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “No you’re not.” 

“No I’m not,” he admitted. 

“Sammy,” she breathed. She cupped his little cheek in her hand. “I guess Will didn’t teach you how good a liar he is. I’m glad.” 

He felt a sigh of relief wash over him as she pulled him in for another tight hug. It felt good to not be Will anymore. She rubbed her hand up and down his back like Dad always did when he was nervous. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she said. “I’ve missed you every single day. I’ve thought about you… every waking second. That’s why I took that job at… oh it doesn’t matter. I’ve just missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you, too,” he mumbled, falling off the chair and into her lap. “I don’t remember you but I do.” 

She held him tighter. “Well, let’s just not miss each other anymore, how about that?” 

He nodded, and laid his head on her shoulder. “Okay.” 

She stiffened, all of a sudden. “Wait, where is Will anyway?” 

“He’s with Dad. We met at camp, and wanted to see you guys, and so we switched places.” 

He sniffled on her sweater, and she ran her hand over his back again. 

“Does your dad know about it yet?” 

“Yeah… Will and I talked last night and he told him.” 

“He hasn’t wanted to call me?” 

“He’s, uh, he’s been busy.” 

She stilled for a moment. “Busy how? With who?” 

“Just with working. It’s boring.” 

“What’s his work?” 

“It’s a restaurant. It’s really fancy, and they do lots of big events and stuff.” 

She picked him up and set him down on his chair. 

“So, where are you during this time?” 

“Sometimes Dad lets me fold napkins after school for my allowance, and then I play in his office. Other times, Roberta picks me up and takes me home.” 

She had a funny look on her face, but she turned it into a smile. “Who’s Roberta?” 

“I dunno. She was Dad’s babysitter or something. She’s really old though. And married. Don’t worry.” 

She gave a little smile. “Why would I worry?” 

He giggled. “You still like Daddy.” 

A lot of different looks passed over her face, but eventually, she sighed. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. But that’s not something to worry about for you. Now, get ready for bed, I’m going to figure out what to do about everything. Did your brother or dad say when they’d be coming back.” 

“Soon. They’ll let us know. Holiday weekend and all. Tough to find flights.” 

She nodded, and grabbed a sticky note. “Write his phone number down.” 

“What?” he shrieked. 

“You must know it, and I need to confirm things.” 

“Well… he’s busy a lot.” 

“Sam.” 

“Fine.” 

He scribbled down Roberta’s number, praying she would be too distracted with bridge finals at the community center to pick up the phone. 

“But what about baseball?” he asked, handing it back to her. 

She looked confused about it too. “What about it?” 

“I don’t know. Dad and Will are coming back soon, and I wanted a special memory with you before it all changed.” 

Her face softened, and she nodded. “Alright.” 

“It has to be on Thursday. And at Home Run Baseball.” 

“Yeah, I got that. I’ll cancel my meetings.” 

She nudged him towards the stairs, and he stomped up. 

Once upstairs, he found the phone in her room, and shut himself in her closet to call Will. 

“Will?” he asked. 

“Sam?” 

“Yeah, it’s me. Mom just figured it out, and so we only have a little time to stay with them before they go back to normal, but it’s okay. Mom still likes Dad and so maybe they’ll get back together.” 

* * *

He heard her coming. 

“Where’s your dad?” Roberta asked, and Will told her that he was in his room. 

She proceeded to open his door like she was defusing a bomb. 

Mulder sat amongst a sea of strewn clothes, wearing two different button down shirts and two different colored loafers on each foot. 

“What do you think?” 

Roberta tilted her head, and said in a monotone: “I think you’ll be beating them off with a stick.” 

He sighed, grabbed his hair, and flopped down on the bed like a little kid again. 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” he said, muffled. “I’m seeing Dana Scully again, for the first time in nearly a decade, after I practically kidnapped one of her children- our children- and she’s already pissed at me, and so I have to have a phenomenal outfit to distract her long enough to like me again.” 

“Why do you think she’s pissed at you?” 

He shook his head, and pressed his face to the mattress again. “Will said she was mad about it.. and she didn’t give me her home address. I don’t know. I mean, we agreed to this plan. I know it was the right thing to do. But… what if she wants to take Sam back? She’s a well-regarded doctor, she probably makes more than I do, and she’s raised an extremely smart and healthy kid. The court will take her side-“ 

He felt a smack on the back of his head and sat up. 

“What the hell?” 

Roberta rolled her eyes. “If this Dana Scully really was going to put you through all that, she wouldn’t have put it off for so long. I think that you’re just worried that she won’t like you, and so you’re focusing on the boys.” 

He drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve really missed her. And I’m furious with her that she won’t just work things out together, instead of just doing a cold, rigid freaking child-swap. And what if she’s moved on. I mean, Will told me they wanted to get us back together, what if there’s someone else and that’s why? She’s back in DC. Half the city wanted to date her when we were living there.” 

Roberta pulled a cigarette out of her purse and handed it to him. He put it between his lips as he ranted, but then froze, in horror, and pulled it out again. 

“Wait, I don’t smoke.” 

She shrugged. “Figured it might calm you down. But I see that’s a hopeless effort.” 

He fiddled with the ring on his finger. “When Will first arrived, he asked about this. My guess is that she doesn’t wear hers anymore.” 

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. It may just mean she lost it in a patient’s gallbladder.” 

He rolled his eyes, and sat up. “She’s a better doctor than that.” 

She sighed, and stood up. “I’m gonna leave you to your crisis, it seems like you’re too stubborn to reason with.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Plus, I want to spend all the time I can with Will before you guys leave.” 

“But what am I going to do?” 

Roberta put her hands on his shoulders like he was a little kid. “You’re going to pick yourself, be there for your kids, and pack that dark green sweater that brings out your eyes.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Take my advice on this one, okay?” 

“Dad!” Will said, bursting in. “I just got off the phone with Mom and Sam. It’s all confirmed. They’ll meet us Thursday after our plane gets in.” 

“That’s great,” he said, and tried to smile supportively while Will ran out of the room. 

“You sure you don’t want that cigarette?” 

He shut his eyes and nodded. 

“Well,” she said, patting his shoulder. “One last piece of advice: don’t you dare go overboard with that awful cologne you wear. You’re her kids’ father, not a thirteen year old trying to get a kiss at a dance. Moderate.” 

He reluctantly rolled his eyes, and started packing for real. 

* * *

It had been two days and she couldn’t get ahold of Mulder. 

She was about to give him one more day, before she either sent the Gunmen to find him or flew to England herself and knocked on every door in the country. 

But it was Thursday night, and she’d postponed her meetings at the Bureau so she could take her newly-reunited son to play baseball. And she tried to put Mulder and custody and work out of her mind. 

“So, Sammy, I meant to ask…” 

“About my tests?” he said. 

She glanced in the rearview mirror, curious. 

“I’m not psychic, I just figured you’d want to know.” 

She smiled. “Yeah, of course I do.” 

“They’re all fine. Normal. That’s why Dad let me go to camp. That and I think I was bugging him too much about it.” 

“How long have they been like that?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno, like six months? At least. I get tested once a month one everything. And about six months ago they stopped the treatments and it hasn’t come back or anything.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Dad would know better than me though. You know he’s been really careful about it, and smart. He’s been really good.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

“And on top of all that caring about your kids, he still works out a lot too.” 

Scully tried so hard to contain a smile. “Does he?” she managed. 

“Yeah. He thinks gyms are unsanitary though so he just does pushups and stuff in the kitchen. So put that in your ‘pro’ column.” 

“My pro column?” She glanced over her shoulder at a stoplight to catch him grinning. “As… weirdly sweet as it is, you trying to set me and your dad up, it’s a big more complicated than that.” 

He didn’t say anything until they reached the baseball field, sunlight just barely fading off the horizon. 

There was only one other car in the parking lot, and two people, a man and a boy, got out just as they pulled in. 

“That’s them,” Sam said, unbuckling before the car had fully stopped. 

“That’s who?” 

“Dad and Will.” 

A shock went through Scully’s body. “They’re here?” 

Sam grinned, maniacally. She would hate it if it wasn’t such a Mulder quality. 

“You should have told me they were gonna be here, Sam. I would have changed out of scrubs…” 

“You’re fine, he won’t care.” 

She watched across the parking lot as Will bounced on his toes watching them, and Mulder crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the car. She could barely see in this light, but he still looked as good as ever. 

“He still wears his wedding ring, you know.” 

Sam said it, just before grinning at her one more time and hopping out of the car and running across the parking lot. 

She would’ve put on another layer of lipstick, if she didn’t know Fox Mulder well enough to know that, a) his eyes were still trained on her, and b) he’d never let her live it down that she primped for him. 

Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and got out, walking around to see them. 

Sam and Will hugged each other first, before Sam turned to tackle Mulder and Will nervously approached her. 

“You mad?” he asked. 

She rolled her eyes, and held out her arms. 

“If I knew you were gonna take a trip to Europe after your camp session, I would have packed you a jacket,” she said, mumbling against his hair. 

“Well, you’re lucky I happen to have a clone in Europe with my exact jacket size.” 

She pulled back and saw that there were tears running down his cheek. She wiped them away with her thumb. 

“I’ve missed you a lot,” she said, letting him fall back against her. 

“Me too.” 

She watched over his shoulder as Mulder held Sam close, eyes darting over to her, and then away, like a kid in school with a crush. 

She tried to not let that affect her, as she comforted Will. 

“Are we gonna get punished for this?” he asked. 

She laughed. “Not yet you won’t, I think that would be just cruel.” 

She stood up and reached for Will’s hand and walked them over to Mulder and Sam. 

“I uh…” he started, clearly fumbling for words. 

“This is a surprise for me,” she said. “Was it for you?” 

Mulder looked grateful for her rescue, and diverted his attention to the twins. “The switch, yes. But they did tell me we would be meeting you guys here.” 

“Ah, so I’m the last one informed, huh?” She glared down at Will and Sam, who both looked guilty. 

“Sorry,” they said. 

She smiled at them, and then up at Mulder, who was staring at her, mesmerized. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said. 

It took him a moment to respond, but he finally smiled, and nodded. “You too.” 

“Do you want to come back to our house and talk about… everything?” 

There was some kind of relief that passed over him, that she wasn’t quite sure of, but he nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.” 

“No!” Will screamed, and grabbed Sam, pulling him away from the two of them. “You guys promised we would play baseball.” 

They looked at each other confused. 

“Is it really that important to you?” she asked, and they nodded. 

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Alright, get the equipment from the trunk.” She turned to Mulder. “We can talk a bit while we watch them play.” 

“Okay-“ he started, but Sam interrupted this time. 

“No, Mom.” The boys opened the trunk and pulled out the baseball bat. “ _You_ _guys_ are going to play. Together.” 

“What?” she said, incredulously. “Guys, enough with the schemes and all.” 

“What’s so bad about you guys playing together?” Sam asked, innocently. 

She glared at him. “Really?” 

“Really.”

Mulder betrayed her and grabbed the bat from Will. “I’m up for it,” he said. 

“See, Mom,” the twins said in a chorus. 

Mulder extended his hand, and gave her a look that made her knees weak ten years ago, and was the likeliest cause of their sons’ existence. 

“It’s just baseball, Scully. Harmless enough.” 

“That’s what you said last time,” she mumbled, before refusing his one hand, taking the bat from his other, and marching down to the field. “Come on,” she called. “Let’s get this over with.” 

* * *

“They’re recreating our first date,” Mulder noted, saddling up at the plate behind her. 

“How do they even know about our first date?” 

They glanced over their shoulder at the two boys waving excitedly from the stands. 

“I don’t know, but for two kids living in different countries, not knowing a thing about each other, who managed to switch places without either of us knowing? I don’t think anything’s impossible.” 

“We’ll have to be careful around them, something tells me this isn’t going to stop with tonight.” She took her spot at the plate, and motioned with her head to step behind her. 

“Before we begin,” he said, stepping back instead of forward. “I do just want to make my intentions clear.” 

She dug the end of the bat into the ground and leaned on it. “Really, you do?” she said, in an unimpressed tone. 

“Well, I’m sure you know this can’t possibly end the same way it did ten years ago.” 

“I’m pretty sure Child Protective Services would take them both away if it did.” 

He looked a bit confused, but glanced over at the backstop and smiled. “Oh right,” he muttered. “I was talking about needing to put the kids first.” 

“Of course,” she said, unable to tell if this serious-Mulder-persona was a move or not. 

“And as such, you won’t be able to lure me in with your feminine wiles.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Just get over here, Mulder.” 

“Ah, but that leads me to the second prong-“ 

“How many prongs are there?” 

“Three. The second, however. Attitude. They’re already several steps ahead of us, and I’m guessing they’re regrouping as we speak. We need them to think that it’s going perfectly or it could get harder for us to figure out.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“And so, we’re both going to have to be enthusiastic. And look, I love the eye-rolling thing. It’s what drew me in in the first place. And I know it’s genetic because it’s one of Sam’s cutest habits. But-“ 

“No eye-rolling. Got it. Can we just get on with this?” 

He nodded, and walked around her till he was behind her, and wrapped himself around her. 

She motioned for the ball-operator to start, and the first one pitched, and they missed it by a mile. They nearly broke apart trying to hit the second one, and when Mulder stepped back into position behind her, he was even closer than before. 

“What was the third?” she asked, feeling him everywhere around her. 

“The third?” 

The next ball pitched, and they nearly got a piece of it. A miracle, given how distracted she was by his cologne. 

“The third prong. You said there were three. What was it?” 

“Mmmm,” he said, his hands half covering hers on the bat. The next ball came and she moved to swing, but he stayed planted in the ground, holding her to him. “Third prong is that you can’t fall in love with me again.” 

“What?” 

Fifth ball missed by a mile, and when she swung the bat it came out of her hands, and fell to the ground. 

When she went to pick it up, she caught him smiling. “I don’t know what you’re grinning about, that wasn’t even on my mind. We have a job as parents to do. You don’t even have to worry about that with me.” 

He wrapped his arms back around her, and they geared up for the next ball. He nuzzled her shoulder, and she forced herself to not shiver. 

“Good,” he said. “We both need to be focused if we’re going to figure this all out.” 

“Agreed.” Suddenly, it frankly didn’t matter if he was joking or messing with her. He was right. There was a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let him sway her one way or another. If he was flirting, it didn’t matter; they were on duty. If he was being serious, then fuck him even more. 

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. They didn’t get one hit in, and by the end, she had pulled away from Mulder so much the nuns in high school would have been proud of her. 

The second the tenth ball hit the backstop, she pulled away from him like he was on fire, and marched up to the stands. 

In the dark, it hit her all over again how identical the twins really looked, especially together. She didn’t even care anymore, which one was which. She just needed a second away from him before they discussed their plans. 

“You look like you had fun,” they said, smiling at her encouragingly. 

She forced herself to smile and nod, before grabbing one, either one, by the shirt collar. She turned to the other (she thought it was Will, but she was to frustrated to care), and said: “Give your dad the address and tell him to meet us at home, okay?” 

“Okay?” he said, confused, and she led the other down the steps. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

She looked down below, seeing Mulder paying their batting fee, refusing to even look up at the commotion in the stands. She took a deep breath, loosened her grip on Sam (she finally realized it was indeed Sam), and led them calmly back to the car.

* * *

Will was irrationally angry, and he stewed in it long and hard while Dad paid for the game and took his sweet time walking back to the stands. 

He’d seemed nervous and excited to see her. He’d seen him pack and unpack the suitcase a thousand times. And then all of a sudden he was all distant and, as Mom would call it, “macho”? Of course she got mad and pulled Sam away. 

Dad made his way up the stands, still holding Mom’s bat, and leaned heavily against the railing. “Ready to go?” he asked. 

Will just sat and stared forward, anger bubbling up. 

“Will?” 

He turned and glared at him. 

“What?” Dad asked. 

“What?” he snapped back. 

He sat down next to him. “You’re mad?” 

Will stood up like he’d been electrocuted. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” 

“You seem all nervous and happy to see her, even in the parking lot, and then you talk to her for a minute and suddenly she gets mad and leaves? Why are you blowing this? What was it? Were you cold to her? Did you have the wrong energy? Because it’s not every day you get to see the mother of you kids and you should have just been happy and polite.” 

“Hey, Will, come on. I don’t like this tone-“ 

“I don’t care!” he screamed. “You two still like each other-“ 

“That doesn’t very well matter,” Dad said, in a raised tone. “You and Sam come first.” 

“We can still come first if you two are together!” 

“Will. We have been apart for almost a decade. I miss her and feel a lot for her, but I need to make sure that we’re not going to fall back into something and have it hurt you guys. We need to be rational about this, and of all the people who could understand that, Dana Scully is at the top of the list.” 

He glared at him. “You’re being really stupid. And it’s going to turn out worse for Sam and I if you don’t try, then if you did.” 

Will pushed past him, and stormed down the stairs to the car, and slammed the door shut. 

* * *

“I just think that you should give him a chance.” 

“Sam, that’s enough.” 

“Sometimes he gets really official and serious around new people, especially when it comes to me. If that’s what happened, I wouldn’t be offended-” 

“Sam.” 

Sam wiggled in his seat to get to a more authoritative posture. 

“Please, Mom. Just give him another chance. Just talk to him a while longer.” 

“Why is this so important to you?” 

He shrugged to try to distract from the upset bubbling beneath his surface. “I just don’t want to go back to how things were. And I think it would be worse if you two didn’t give it a chance than if you did. If you still have those feelings for each other and all.” 

Mom stared out the windshield for a long time, not responding to that. He let the gentle hum of the car nearly lull him to sleep, and he opened his eyes once they arrived at her house to make his way upstairs, to Will’s room and stumble into bed. Just beside him, he could hear her setting up the trundle bed for Will, and he thought it was funny that it was Will’s room but he didn’t get first dibs. 

She left, and went back downstairs, and after a few minutes, Will and Dad arrived, and Will came upstairs to bed, too. He angrily flopped down on the bed and poked him until he was fully awake. 

“Sam. Sam. Sam.” 

“What.” 

“We need to make a plan.” 

“In the morning.” 

“But Dad and Mom still have feelings for each other, but Dad said he wasn’t even going to think about it when it could affect us.” 

“In the morning.” 

“Sam, we have to figure this out. They have to understand that it would be better for us if they’re together.” 

“Got it. In the morning.” 

“But-“ 

Sam pulled the pillow out from under his head, and blindly tossed it onto Will’s head. 

“Sam!” 

“In the morning,” he sleepily mumbled. 

Will tossed and turned beside him for a few minutes, but then finally fell asleep as well. 

* * *

He was on his phone when Scully returned from putting Will to bed. 

“Hey,” she said, nervously walking into her own living room. 

He quickly shut it off, and gave her half a smile. “Hey.” 

“What’re you… what are you up to?” she asked, gesturing at the phone. 

“Just looking for a hotel,” he said, sheepishly. “Do you have a wifi password…” 

“Mulder.” 

“Really, it’s fine, I’m happy to go. And the boys should have more time together-“ 

“No. Absolutely not, you’re staying here. We have a guest room. Well, it’s more of an office with a pullout couch, but it’s all yours-“ 

“I found one with a pool-“ 

“Really, the boys will be disappointed if you leave and aren’t here tomorrow. Stay.” 

She gave him a white-flag of a smile, and he reluctantly nodded. “Alright.” 

“I’ll go set it up,” she said. “Is your luggage-“ 

“In the car.” 

They both awkwardly went in separate directions. He wasted as much time as he could, unloading the car and bringing his things inside. Every time he set a bag in the doorway, it would disappear into the other room. At least that was something that hadn’t left them; being able to work in unison like that. 

He approached the spare room with his last bag on his arm, and nervously stood in the doorway. 

Scully was turning down the bed with fresh sheets, bent over away from him, and he nearly said something. But, it had been ten years. 

She turned around and jumped when she noticed him. 

“Oh, hi.” 

“Hi.” 

She pushed back the hair from her face, and nervously put her hands in her pockets. 

“I think I got everything set up for you. There’s a half bath down the hall, but if you want to take a shower, you can use the boys’ bathroom up the stairs.” 

He nodded, and set his bag with the rest of his things. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it then. Make yourself at home.” 

Scully slipped past him, and closed the door lightly. 

He was at a loss of what to do. He wandered around, looking at the pictures of Will everywhere. On the surface, his growth seemed just like Sam’s. They had the same cute pudgy baby cheeks. The same wispy, auburn hair as toddlers. They both seemed to like chewing on inanimate objects. They both happened to have little green and blue swim trunks at some point. But it was so much more than the surface. They were two completely different people. One he’d known all his life, and the other was a complete stranger.

The house was nice. He never expected Scully to raise Will in a dump, but it was reassuring to know how clean and happy it was. How much love it contained. A couple of those pictures were from his house on the Vineyard. He’d almost forgotten about it, and was pleased that Scully still had that connection to him, and had shared it with Will. He’d always wanted to take Sam up there. 

Scully’s desk was immaculate as ever. She still had the plaques from their desk at the Hoover Building, now nailed to the wall. Almost out of place, with the decor, if he hadn’t known the history. In fact, his plaque was the only sign of him in this house. It killed him, quite a bit, to be back here, where he’d dreamed of, to be trying to repair a life he never really had. To stand in a house he’d fantasized about and see only the barest whisper of him there. 

And it suddenly made sense what Will had said. About how it would be better for the boys if him and Scully tried it. And he felt, as he had for eight years since the day they were born, like an idiot and an ass.

* * *

Scully had been staring at the refrigerator shelves for five minutes straight. There was nothing to eat. There was plenty to eat, but there was just nothing to eat. Nothing seemed good or worth it. And she finally gave up, and closed the door, only to find Mulder lurking in the hall, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey. Everything alright?” she asked, beckoning him into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” he said. “I just… It’s 8:15, and I haven’t gone to bed that early since middle school. Are you up for talking or should I wait till morning?” 

She smiled and nodded. “Now’s fine.” 

She gestured to the living room, and he went over to the couch as she opened the fridge door, suddenly knowing what she wanted. 

She brought over two glasses, one for him and one for her, and began pouring the wine. 

“You have a fireplace,” he remarked. “You had one at your old place.” 

“It’s number one on my must-have list. Right above running water.” 

She got up from the couch and took the matches off the mantle. 

“I don’t…” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know how to start this.” 

“Well, I can. It’s been brought to my attention, particularly thanks to your son, that I may have been too cold or detached or...” He shook his head. “With the wrong energy, whatever that means.” 

“Well, Sam said you tended to get a bit serious when you talk about him.” 

“I do. But I shouldn’t have with you.” 

The fire suddenly ignited, and she sat down next to him on the couch. 

“I also think I was a little nervous,” he continued. “And I may have wanted to preemptively protect myself. Put those rules in place, and hope you would be the one to break them.” 

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. 

“What?” 

“If I didn’t know any better Mulder, I’d say you’re stealing my identity.” 

He smiled as well. “You were never cold to me, at the very least.” 

“You were just protecting your sons. The way you have been for eight years.” 

“Yeah, well…” he said, clearly wanting to go on, but not. 

“What?” 

“Maybe if I’d come back sooner, I wouldn’t have screwed things up so much. And they wouldn’t have had to pull this stuff. They’re just kids, they shouldn’t have to think about what’s better or worse for them to have.” 

“I know. But it isn’t your fault, staying away. You were doing it for them. And I’m glad you didn’t just come back for selfish gains.” 

He shook his head. “Still. Sam’s been fine for a long time. And we could’ve at least been in contact more in the time since. I’ve missed Will so much, and I know you’ve missed Sam. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe if I’d thought about it more, and not been so worried. We wouldn’t have lost so much.” Something told her he wasn’t just talking about losing time with the boys. 

“Well, we can build and rebuild relationships with our sons. It’ll be hard, but we’ll figure it out.” 

“And what about us?” He asked the question that was on both of their minds. 

“What about us?” 

“Will brought it to my attention that it might not actually be harmful… if you and I tried it again.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? It’s violating several of your prongs.” 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“I’m sorry. About everything.” 

She watched him carefully. 

“I just feel…” he said. “… I don’t know. Like I screwed everything up. By leaving in the first place. By not coming back sooner. By acting like how I did earlier because I panicked.” 

She reached over and squeezed his hand. She started to pull her hand away, but he held onto it faster. 

“You don’t wear your ring anymore,” he pondered. 

“I still have it,” she said. “In my room. But I’m a surgeon now and I didn’t want it to get lost between shifts.” 

His thumb stroked the edge of her hand, and she felt sparks nearly fly off of it. 

“I like that sweater,” she said. 

“You do?” 

She nodded. “It brings out your eyes.” 

“I wasn’t sure about it.” 

“So… what are we going to do?” she asked. “About it all. The boys will want an answer in the morning.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

Maybe it was the wine, or the look in his eye, or the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in _so_ long. But suddenly she didn’t care about the following day, she didn’t care about custody or worrying or their oceanic distance apart. 

“I want to not think about it right now.”

She pulled one leg under her to get some height, and gripped his chin with her free hand, and kissed him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, on script. What they always said. Sorry, it’s fine, really though, I want this. 

“It’s fine,” he rasped. 

“Really though, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away, testing him with the dance they always used to do. 

But he was much smarter than that. 

He grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her onto his lap, and managed to stand up still holding her, a cheeky grin on his face. “No you’re not.” 

“Do you-“ 

“Yes I do.” 

She smiled, and wrapped her legs a little bit tighter around him. 

“Bedroom’s down the hall?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

And that was the last word she got out until sunrise, when they had to be responsible again. 

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to the bright and shining sunlight, and saw Will sleeping with his butt in the air next to him. 

He rolled over, and saw that Will’s alarm clock was analog, and spent the next couple minutes trying to puzzle out what time it was. He still wasn’t quite good at that yet. 

To his horror, he eventually realized that it was already midmorning, and nearly shrieking, he jumped out of bed and shook Will awake. 

“Will! Will! Get up!” 

That pillow that he’d tossed on Will the night before got hurtled right at his head. “Go away.” 

“It’s ten oh seven!” 

“What?” he mumbled. 

“It’s late! We need to figure this out!” 

Will sat bolt upright. “Crap.” 

“Sam! Will! Breakfast!” 

Mom’s voice rang up the stairs, and they looked at each other with horror. 

“What do we do?” 

Will grabbed him by the arm and started leading him downstairs. “We’ll just figure it out after we hear what they came up with.” 

Sam followed him reluctantly down the stairs, finding Mom making pancakes and Dad at the table in his own world. He knew that face that he had on. The “Something’s Wrong” face. He had it every time he was in the hospital or if a big party backed out at the last minute from the restaurant. Mom was quiet, and she didn’t look up from the pan when the walked in. 

“Pancakes are on the table, guys,” she said, flipping the next batch. 

They stood still in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder. 

“What?” she asked. 

“What’s gonna happen?” Sam asked. 

“Guys, sit down.” 

Will grabbed his arm to stop him from doing as told. “No. Tell us what’s going on.” 

Mom and Dad looked at each other and then he began: “First of all, we want you to know that we’ve thought about this a lot, and we’ve really listened to what you have to say.” 

“It’s bad news isn’t it?” Will said. 

“We’re not going to separate you,” he said. “That’s the most important thing to us.” 

“Just get to the point, please,” he begged. 

Dad sighed, and put his head in his hands, clearly upset, and Mom took over. 

“We decided that it’s best that I go back to work at the FBI, and you two will go back to England with your dad. I’ll come visit on breaks and during the summer you may be able to come back here. We’ll figure it out. But we want you two to be safe, and not separate.” 

“What?!” Will screamed, while Sam stayed frozen in the entrance. “Sam’s fine! And we want to be together, we want to see both of you all the time! Why does it have to be like this?” 

“Will,” she said, getting down on her knees. “It’s really complicated but there are people behind all of this insanity. They’re the reason why Sam and Dad had to live in England and why we couldn’t see them. And I think that we have a chance to bring them to justice, and so for the time being, this is what we think would be best. We’ll still talk all the time on the phone, and I’ll come visit you so much you’ll barely miss me. But I trust your dad to keep you guys safe, and I want you two to stay together. So, we’re going to try this out for a little while, okay?” 

Will’s voice cracked, and he helplessly looked back at Sam for backup, but Sam was frozen in place. 

“Wh-what about you guys being together?” he asked, furiously wiping his cheeks. “I thought you said you were gonna think about it.” 

“Sweetie,” she said. “Now’s not really the time to think about this. Maybe we’ll consider it. Later. But for now we just want to make doubly sure you’re both safe.” 

She tried to hug him, but he pushed her away and grabbed Sam’s arm. “C’mon.” 

“Will, Sam, come back here and eat.” 

“No!” Will screamed. “We’re not hungry.” 

And he pulled him up the stairs, giving him just enough time to look back at Mom and Dad looking sadder then he’d ever seen.


	6. Forever and Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for bearing with me- I know this is A LOT later than I said, and then I said again, and then again, and again, but I appreciate the patience! Hope you enjoy it! 

Mulder didn’t know how they came to this decision, but nonetheless, they were there. He’d tried to console himself with fantasies of this life they’d chosen. When they decided it, it wasn’t necessarily a middle finger to the night that they had had, just a safety net. They’d get the justice they needed, and in the meantime, they could be patient and adjust to their new lives.

She’d come to England every month or two, spend some time with the boys, and they’d go to school. He worked mostly afternoons and evenings, so they could spend the day together. Maybe slowly reconnect. And maybe she’d grow so she couldn’t live without him, they way he couldn’t without her. And honestly, getting to see her a few times a year for a few days each was better than the cold silence he’d lived with.

But as bad as he’d felt when they agreed, it was even worse to see it on the boys’ faces.

Will had screamed at them, justifiably, and left them to their silence.

“So, do you want to tell them or should I?” Scully asked, after a few minutes of them standing completely still.

“I’ll do it. I’m guessing you’ll be taking your share of heat.”

He reluctantly stood up, groaning, and began his slow march upstairs after them. The door had been slammed shut, he could tell from the askew painting on the wall, and knocked ever so carefully.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he said. “It’s Dad.”

“Go away.”

“I just wanted to talk to you guys a second.”

The door opened slightly, and Sam (he could tell by the look on his face) stepped aside to let him in.

“What?” Will asked, throwing a baseball up the air on his bed and catching it.

“Well, since I couldn’t get a flight out for the three of us in the next few days, and I wanted to give your Mom some time to get Will’s things together, I thought we might take a little road trip, just the three of us.”

“Where?” Sam asked, flopping down next to Will.

“I thought we’d go to Martha’s Vineyard. I’ve always wanted to show it to you, and I figured it might not hurt to wait another week to go back to England.”

Will scowled at him, and Sam looked disappointed. “If we can’t get a flight out, can’t we just stay here with Mom?”

Mulder tried not to answer that, knowing an eight year old might not be able to understand how the longer he stayed near her, the less likely it was that he would actually leave. “C’mon, buddy, don’t you wanna see the place I grew up? Will’s been there, tell’m how fun it is.”

Will turned to Sam, and in a monotone he said: “It sucks.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright. It’s official. You two are grounded. Sentenced to five, funfilled days in Massachusetts. Get packing, we’re gonna hit the road later this afternoon.”

“What?!” they both screamed. “That soon?”

He gave them the same mischievous smile that they always seemed to have. “Yup. Figured it was probably for the best that we don’t give you two much time to plan your next scheme.”

“Is Mom coming with us?” Sam asked.

He shook his head. “No, bud, she needs to stay here to work. But we’ll see her again before we go, and later this fall.”

Sam, as lovely and obedient as he was, rolled off the bed and begrudgingly packed, while Will remained motionless.

“Will?” he asked, taking a few steps forward to kneel at his side. “I know this is a lot, and it’s a big and sudden change, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

He looked at him out of the corner of his eye and glared, before rolling away.

Mulder glanced at Sam, before standing up and heading back towards the door. “I need to go get some things taken care of, okay? Then we’ll have some lunch and head out.”

Neither boy responded, or had any other look on their face but misery, and Mulder tried to push the miserable sick feeling down as he left.

* * *

\- - -

Scully stayed sealed in her room until they left. That was about all she could take.

Mulder wanted to be on the road in the afternoon, and so they packed up as quickly as they could. She could hear it upstairs, and in the next room where Mulder was putting away his clothes from the night before.

In the kitchen, she could hear one of the twins rifling through the fridge, and asking quietly about the food in it. The only words she could make out were from Mulder, saying: “I’ll go ask your mom.”

He cracked the door open, and looked at her, lying on the bed. She turned to look at him, but he could still read her mind. Slowly, he closed the door, and went out to help their son.

The goodbye was the hardest part. She knew, logically, this was just a practice run. They’d be back in a few days and she could do it properly. She hugged each of them individually, and both together. She kissed their hair, and let them cling to each of her hands for a few seconds too long. Mulder stood to the side, looking like he wanted to hug her too, but made no move to. 

They took her car, and were off. That was it. She waved at them, all alone and angry and miserable at the people who had put them in this position. She watched it until it was out of sight.

And then she pulled herself together enough to go to work.

\- - -

The Bureau hadn’t changed much in the near-decade since she’d been there. Same wood paneling and over-waxed tile floor. Same crowded elevators, same overpriced vending machines. Same throng of tired and angry faces. But this time was harder. This time she didn’t have a small haven in the basement.

Monica met her at the door, and on the ride up to Skinner’s office, she told her how it went.

“You’re remarkably silent.”

Monica just stared forward.

“Mon-“

“ _That’s_ the decision you came to?!”

“Monica-“

“After all of this, you’re still choosing to throw a grenade into this set up. You have an opportunity to have everything you want. Mulder. Sam. William. All under one roof- hell, you could even do it safely in the US now. But rather than coming in to reject the job offer that will destroy all of this, you’re going to accept it?”

Suddenly, Scully didn’t want to speak.

“Dana. Please, stop being so rational. You want it. Your boys want it. I _know_ Mulder wants it. Why can’t let it happen?”

“Because… what if it doesn’t work? What if it ends horribly, and we end up worse off?”

“This feels like a very familiar excuse.”

“But it’s a very real one. This plan, it will give us the chance to slowly re-acclimate. Get to know each other again in these different roles. And maybe, after a while, we’ll end up living together like we want.”

“And with your boys in therapy, I’m sure it’ll give you plenty of extra time to rekindle your romance. Dana, this is not like you. Or it shouldn’t be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but you need to be trying harder than this. Walking in this morning, did you really think that this was the place you were meant to be? Did it really feel like the right choice over a life with Mulder and your sons?”

The elevator dinged, and they walked off, heading down the hall towards Skinner’s office. Monica didn’t say another word on the subject, but that was as loud as anything.

They walked in together, side by side, just slightly off sync. Skinner’s secretary was new. She didn’t know who Scully was, she didn’t know her history. She didn’t know about all the times she’d gone storming into this office. She didn’t know about the one in particular when Mulder was missing in the Caribbean and she would have burned this place down to find him.

They sat down on the couch, the same one he’d batted her hand away from his tie, the same one they’d sat so many times simultaneously, silently, rehearsing their answers, rehearsing having each other’s back. She didn’t know about the number of times she’d walked through that door frame. She didn’t know that while Monica went in first this time, Mulder always used to let her take the lead. And she didn’t know why she almost looked disappointed to see that Skinner’s beige chairs had been replaced by sleek black ones. That the conference table was different than before.

It was not the same. Logically, she should have known that. It had been almost a decade, and of course it wouldn’t be. But she sat down in the wrong chair, at the wrong desk, in the wrong room, across from a man who was almost unfamiliar, and in that moment, she new for absolute certain, like lightning traveling through her body, that this was wrong. That Monica was right. That Mulder was right. That her boys were right.

“Dr. Scully, it’s good to see you back here,” Skinner greeted her. “Let’s go over the procedures for getting you reacquainted with the Bureau, shall we?”

“No,” she said.

“No?”

They both looked at her with surprise and confusion.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Assistant Director, but I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t want to come back to the Bureau after all.”

Skinner looked almost amused, and slowly turned around to shred the paperwork in front of him.

“That’s it?” she asked, looking over to Monica.

“I’m a little disappointed,” he said, getting out his wallet, and handing Monica a five-dollar bill. “But quite frankly, you and I both know you not longer belong here.”

Scully didn’t even have to look at Monica to know she was wearing a wide and smug grin.

“I’m going to follow this case,” he said. “We’ll figure it out eventually, but you deserve to move on.”

“Thank you,” Scully said.

“Want to thank me?” Monica asked.

Scully glared at her. “No.”

Monica shrugged, and smiled. “I don’t care how it happens, just that it did.” She waved the five bucks in the air.

“You two…” Scully huffed, and stood up.

“Where’re you going?” Monica asked.

She paused, and smiled to herself. “Martha’s Vineyard.”

\- - -

They were on the road all afternoon, and stopped for dinner in the evening. While the boys were in the rest stop bathroom, Mulder finally got a chance to call Roberta and give her a heads up. He found the nearest payphone, and emptied his change in to make the call.

“Are you back together yet?”

“That’s how you pick up the phone? How did you even know it’s me?” he asked.

“Well? Are you?”

“Roberta-“

“I swear to high hell Fox Mulder, you better be calling to tell me I can finally retire to Florida. That you and the mother of your children have worked it out after goodness knows how many years and that’s that. She’s looking out for you so I don’t have to, and I can finally put a deposit down on that nice little condo on the bay.”

He exhaled long and hard, and placed his head against the cool wall. “Actually I was calling to see if you could get a cot set up in the living room. Both boys are coming back with me next week and I’ll need something for Will to sleep on until I can get him a proper bed.”

“Fox Mulder you little-“ she said, continuing with a series of words that made him wonder why he let her take care of his kids.

“I get that you’re mad-“

“I’m guessing you’re getting an earful from the boys, so I won’t waste your time. But you and I both know this is wrong, and if you had any sense, you’d listen to them.”

She hung up before he could get in another word, just as the boys were reluctantly coming out of the bathroom.

“Hey, guys, you wash your hands for dinner?”

They glared at him, and nodded, in unison.

“What are you thinking? Burgers or chicken? Sandwiches or pizza? The world’s your oyster. What are we doing?”

They kept glaring, and Will pulled Sam towards the burger kiosk without saying anything to Mulder. He sighed, and followed them, trying to not think of how long their mother could hold a grudge.

\- - -

They made it in time for the 8pm ferry, with few delays. Mulder left a message on Scully’s machine letting her know they were almost there safely, omitting the close call at a Pennsylvania gas station where they tried to hitchhike back to DC, and the cab they called from the rest stop in New Jersey. She was worried enough, and he had both boys on a boat and they were going to Martha’s Vineyard one way or another (even if he did catch them asking anyone who was wearing a staff uniform where the life rafts were and how long it would take to paddle back).

It was freezing on the boat, and he left the boys on the observation deck to go down and get some extra layers, and came back to find Sam lying on the bench and Will at the railing staring at the sea.

Mulder sat down next to Sam, and he sat up to put on his sweatshirt.

“Have you guys called in the National Guard yet? Ordered a helicopter?”

“No, but thanks for the suggestions,” he said, dryly.

“Sam,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. You know we just have your best interests at heart, right?”

“I know you think you do.”

“Can you at least just tell me you’ll give it a chance?”

He didn’t move.

“Alright, can you tell me you’ll just try to enjoy Martha’s Vineyard? It’s where i grew up, and there’s a lot of places I think you’ll like.”

He nodded slowly, and looked over at Will.

“Think he’ll talk to me?”

“I don’t know.”

Mulder pulled his jacket off the bundle, and wrapped it around him. “Sit tight, alright?”

“Okay.”

He stood up, and walked over to Will, and handed him his sweatshirt.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Will just glared out at the dark ocean.

“Okay, that was a dumb question.”

“I can’t believe you. Do you really not love her anymore?” he asked.

“What?!”

He turned to him, arms crossed. “You said you loved her, and you had to leave, and it hurt. But now you’re just expecting me to deal with the same amount of pain? Why do I have to leave? There’s nothing for me in England. Not without her. I met you like a week ago, and all of a sudden, I have to just come live with you and leave my mom?”

Mulder set his head down in his hands. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, I know you came over here to ask me to just think about and try this arrangement. I think you should do the same.”

And with that, he pushed off the railing, and went to sit with Sam.

\- - -

It’s a long flight, first going from Washington to Boston, then Boston to a tiny little airport on the Vineyard. But she didn’t care. Scully got off the plane, and made her way to the cab stand with a renewed sense of purpose, not knowing how she was going to rebuild a life with a man an ocean away, but knowing it wouldn’t work any other way.

It was dark, and chilly for late August, but all she could hear was the thrumming of her heart in her ears, and the gentle rocking of the cab as it took her down all those quiet, windy roads to the house. She had the cab pull up around the corner, and she walked the rest of the way, not wanting to scare him with a strange car pulling up in the middle of the night.

She approached the driveway, seeing the car parked, newly stopped, and the light on inside. She watched from the curb as Sam helped unload some of the bags and take them up to the porch, as Mulder carefully carried William inside. She stayed there, watching the scene for a moment. She could see him setting Will down on the couch, and covering him with a coat, before returning to help Sam with the bags. Once all unloaded, he locked the car, and went inside. She watched as the house came to life, their paths through the house being traced with a trail of lights flicked on. She could see Sam running around, exploring, and Mulder pulling the sheets for the bunk beds out of the closet. The same sheets he and Samantha had used, now for their sons.

A cold chill ran through her as she contemplated going up to the door. Who knew how he would react to seeing her? He had every right to be mad at her for what she’d put him through, but with no cell service and the cab long gone, she knew she had no choice.

\- - -

Mulder had tucked a sleepy Will into bed, and was trying to settle Sam down as best as he could. But he knew that excitement, he remembered it well from when he and Samantha would come out here. He was finally agreeing to 30 minutes of TV time, just to spare Will in the other room, when a knock came to the door, and a panic ran through him.

He looked at Sam, having the same wide-eyes as he did, and he motioned to go into the other room with Will and wait. Once the coast was clear, he approached the window to see who it was, but the figure was just out of view.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but he carefully tip-toed to the door, expecting to wedge it open and see who it was, but quietly, trying to not reveal the fear in his voice, he asked: “Who is it?”

There was a pause, before a familiar voice rang out.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

\- - -

The day he’d come back, bloody and broken, but alive on the Oregon forest floor, the only thought in his mind was of Scully. What had happened to her? Where was she? What did she think of him? How much time had passed?

He laid there for hours, with no memory of what had happened to him, or where he was, until morning, when some hikers came across him, and helped carry him back to the ranger station. From there, they called Billy Miles, who picked him up, and took him to the hospital.

He was in and out of consciousness for days, with only a passing memory of Skinner arriving in his room, and the bits and pieces of what he told him. One of Mulder’s legs had been broken, and he wouldn’t be able to walk for a while. Five months had passed, and a lot had changed. Most had given up searching.

“Except for-"

“Scully,” Mulder said, absently, not fully paying attention to his former boss.

“Yeah. Except for her, and the Lone Gunmen.”

“No, I mean… how is she?”

Skinner had an unreadable expression on his face.

“She’s fine.”

“Is she coming out here?”

“She wanted to… but she can’t.”

Mulder’s heart dropped with immediate concern. “Is she alright? What’s going on?”

He grimaced. “It’s not for me to discuss. We’ll have you back to DC in no time, and she can fill you in herself.”

Mulder could barely breathe, the heart monitor steadily ticking faster and faster and faster. “No, no, no. You have to tell me. What the hell is going on? Is it the cancer?”

“No, it’s uh… fuck...” He rubbed his eyes, and sighed. “She’s pregnant. Seven months. It’s twins, and I haven’t asked personally, but given how much hell they’re giving her, I have to assume they’re yours.”

Mulder fell back to the bed, shocked. Pregnant. Scully. Pregnant Scully. She’d gotten what they’d wanted, but had to go through it alone.

“She’s on bedrest right now,” Skinner said. “That’s why she wasn’t able to to come out. She’s anxious to see you though. The doctors all say she’ll be back on her feet in no time. It was just a little thing.”

“What happened?”

“A complication… I don’t know the details, but it seems one of the babies is a little… different. Nothing worrying, but there may be a few health risks when it’s born. And there’s been some… interest in her pregnancy.”

“Interest?”

Skinner gave him a look, one that couldn’t show up on cameras or microphones, but said all that needed to be said.

“Is she alright alone?”

“She’s not alone. I left her with a couple agents who took over the X-Files after you left. John Doggett and Monica Reyes. Both equally insane, but will keep her safe.”

“Right.”

“Look, this has been a lot for you, why don’t you get some rest.” He used the bed to stand up, unknowingly grabbing Mulder’s broken leg and making him cry out in pain.

“Sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, and tried to get comfortable again, before giving up on the futile mission. He’d failed her. He should have stayed behind. He should have been there for their kids. He wasn’t even going to get the reunion he wanted- where he walks through her apartment door one night and sweeps her up off her feet, and carries her to the bedroom. Now, between his broken leg, and her bedrest, not to mention whatever threat they were under now, he just wanted to get home, and crawl in bed with her, and apologize until he was blue in the face and promise he’d never leave her again. Because he wouldn’t. He was sure of it. Until he did it again. And one last time.

\- - -

It took 8 years, but he finally got his reunion. The proper one.

After hearing those immortal words,“Mulder, it’s me”, he threw open the door and froze in his tracks, unsure if it was really her, or some kind of highway exhaustion mirage.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

She swallowed hard, and brushed her cheek with a shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry. I was kidding myself.”

He smiled, and held a hand out for her to take. He pulled her into the house, and shut the door behind her. Hands still connected, he pulled her into a deep hug, burying his face in her hair as she did with his chest. And easily, oh so easily, she tilted her head up and kissed him long and deep.

“This,” he said, when they broke away. “This is what I’d wanted at the baseball field.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, like always it takes a few times for us to get it right, huh?”

“So, I take it you decided against the Bureau?”

“I see your detective skills haven’t dulled at all.”

“Well, I like to think I’m still good at a few things.”

She kissed him again. “Definitely a few things.”

The kiss was deepening quickly, when all of a sudden, she pulled away, and squinted like she was trying to hear something. He listened too, and saw two little shadows reaching under the bedroom door, and two people whispering back and forth.

“I thought I told you two to go to bed,” he called, rolling his eyes.

“We thought you told us you and Mom weren’t getting back together.”

Scully smiled. “They gotcha there.”

The door opened a crack, and Will clearly shoved Sam out like a canary.

“Can we…” he asked.

“Yeah,” Scully said, looking at Mulder. “Get out here, Will. Let's have some ice cream.”

\- - -

7] Epilogue (Barely)

It took a near-miracle to get the boys to bed that night. They ate some ice cream, despite the chill in the air, and Mulder built a fire in the fireplace. She called Monica to tell her that she’d gotten in okay, and _everything_ was okay here. Mulder called Roberta (despite it being 4am her time, he figured she’d never forgive him if he waited until morning) and told her to wire the deposit to Florida, hanging up before she could tease him for only lasting 8 hours without Scully.

And then it was just them. The four of them. Together. Sam knocked out first, and Mulder carried him to bed. Scully bribed William with promises of taffy and bookstores tomorrow if he would just go to bed and read. There was a point where it was clear he was tired too, but staying awake to try to drive up the price, but eventually they reached and agreement, and he stumbled off to that top bunk, and was out before Mulder closed the door.

And then it was the two of them. You can imagine how much of the night was spent, in their bedroom, on the other side of the house, on the sheets she once slept in alone, and tired, and scared for her children, with a fan humming and their suitcases still packed. They didn’t think about the future at all. That was a morning-topic. Later, they’d decide that for Sam’s sake, and just to be extra sure, they’d plant themselves in England for a while. But eventually they’d make it back. But again, that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight it was just about forever and ever and ever.


End file.
